


Safe Keeping

by Vamphile



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-02
Updated: 2006-10-01
Packaged: 2018-12-26 19:50:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 71,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12065823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vamphile/pseuds/Vamphile
Summary: The third in the "Keeping" series.Brian and Justin, Future fic. Angst, schmoop, sex, and as always...LOVE





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

  


  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter 1   


* * *

 

 

Justin stepped out of the shower. He’d finished in the studio and was getting the paint off before he went to bed. He was towel drying his hair when he looked up and met Brian’s gaze.  
  


Brian stared at him.  
  


“What?”  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“You’re supposed to be bored with me.”  
  


“Am I?”  
  


“We’re supposed to be bored with each other.”  
  


Brian nodded. “I guess we are.”  
  


“You realize that next month is…”  
  


“Gus’s birthday.”  
  


“He’ll be eleven. Christ. Have you noticed he’s getting tall?”  
  


Brian nodded again. Justin moved on top of him, rocking his hips from side to side until Brian made space to accommodate them and Justin’s legs were resting comfortably inside his. “What’s wrong?”  
  


Brian brushed the wet fringe of hair from Justin’s face. “Nothing.”  
  


“You suck at lying.”  
  


“Not really.”  
  


“But something’s wrong.”  
  


“Nope. Just tired.”  
  


“Of me?”  
  


“Don’t be a twat.”  
  


“Can’t help it.”  
  


“Try. When I’m tired of you I’ll let you know.”  
  


“Fair enough. We really _should_ be bored with each other by now though.”  
  


“Well then get boring.”  
  


“Okay. Um, you too.”  
  


“I’m not?”  
  


Justin’s head was resting on Brian's chest. He lifted it up and looked him in the eye. “Really not.”  
  


“I’ll work on that.”  
  


“Good. Then I can move on and find someone else to drive me insane.”  
  


“I thought the whole point of moving on is that you’ll find someone who _won’t_ drive you insane.”  
  


“That would be boring.”  
  


Brian laughed and shook his head. “You’re fucking pathetic.”  
  


“Right. I’m the only one who’s used to drama.”  
  


“Well, life’s pretty drama free…”  
  


“Shhhh! Stop!”  
  


“You can’t jinx shit. What the fuck is wrong with you?”  
  


“You _can_ jinx shit. And life’s okay now, but let’s just not talk about it.”  
  


Brian nodded and lit a cigarette. Justin glared. “Only my fifth today. Shut up.”  
  


“Didn’t say a word.”  
  


“Whatever.”  
  


Justin took a drag from Brian’s cigarette and exhaled with a snort when Brian mumbled something about “hypocrites”.  
  


“I’m not being a hypocrite. You said you’d quit before Gus started school this year.”  
  


“He doesn’t start for two weeks.”  
  


“I’m glad Lindsay moved back.”  
  


Brian nodded and stubbed out his cigarette. He pulled Justin up for a kiss and ran his hand down his spine until it rested in the small of his back. They were both lost to the sensation for a moment. The sound of the door buzzer interrupted them.  
  


Justin tried not to let it interfere but Brian pushed him to the side.  
  


“What the fuck?”  
  


“Brian.”  
  


“It’s”, he looked at the clock. “Fuck, it’s after three, who the fuck…”  
  


Brian threw on a pair of jeans and grabbed a t-shirt. He was throwing it over his head and letting out a string of expletives. Justin followed suit.  
  


Brian threw open the door, ready to curse whomever had decided now was a reasonable hour to lean on the buzzer.   
  


He didn’t say a word. Justin was standing next to him. He reached out but Aaron’s voice was small and he looked pale. He was bleeding. “Brian?”  
  


Brian stood frozen. Aaron tried to take a step forward but he stumbled. Then his eyes seemed to roll back and he fell. Brian moved quickly, catching him and lowering him slowly to the floor. Justin was already calling an ambulance.  
  


Brian’s hand was on Aaron’s chest. Justin was trying to answer the dispatcher’s questions.  
  


“Is he breathing? I don’t fucking know!” Brian looked up and nodded. “Yeah, he’s breathing. But he’s passed out. He’s bleeding. He’s… oh god just…”  
  


The next few minutes were a blur. Aaron woke up again for a moment. He looked confused.   
  


Brian was on his knees his hands moving slowly across his scalp and Justin knew he was going to vomit. He knew Brian was looking for a head wound. He was standing over Aaron and the last thought he remembered before the ambulance came was that he couldn’t throw up on his already broken brother. He made it to the kitchen sink before he lost his lunch, and possibly the lining of his stomach. He ran the cold water for a few moments and tried to get this head together but he couldn’t put two thoughts in a row.   
  


Eventually he realized he’d left Brian out there with a bleeding kid and headed back. Brian was pale. The EMT’s were strapping Aaron to a gurney and rapid firing questions that neither of them could answer.  
  


Justin reached for Brian’s hand but he pulled it away. They took him down to the lobby in the elevator. Brian and Justin followed saying nothing. He didn’t remember getting their shoes. He must have. He didn’t remember grabbing his phone; maybe he’d never put it down. He didn’t remember anything but he heard himself listing Aaron’s allergies.  
  


“You’ve told us sir.”  
  


“But Tylenol. He can’t have it… he gets a really bad reaction.”  
  


The guy nodded and Justin thought maybe he’d already said that. He wasn’t sure. Aaron wasn’t opening his eyes.  
  


They were stopped at the doors to the ambulance. “I’m sorry but...”  
  


“I’m his brother.”  
  


They nodded and Justin climbed in. They must have told Brian what hospital, or to follow, or something. He wasn’t sure. He couldn’t remember.  
  


Brian was there a few moments after they were. Someone shoved a clipboard full of papers under Justin’s chin and he took it. He was sitting and checking off all the right boxes. Concentrating on nothing else, as if getting the answers right might make a difference. Aaron would be fine so long as he didn’t accidentally say that his father had a history of heart disease. Aaron would be fine as long as all the paperwork was right.  
  


He finished and looked up. Brian was standing, staring through the window. He stood next to him. Brian’s arms pulled him a little closer, then a lot closer. Brian’s chin was resting on his shoulder. His arms were tight, almost too tight around his waist as they watched.  
  


The doctors and nurses were moving quickly and efficiently around him. There was a tube down his throat now. They were… doing something. He watched Aaron lay there motionless and then he watched Aaron die.  
  


he heard the beeping stop. Beeping he wasn’t aware of until it wasn’t there. He saw the quick and efficient movements of the medical staff become almost frenzied. They never pulled out those paddle things. They never called “clear” like on _ER_. It didn’t matter. Justin knew that Aaron had stopped breathing. He knew his heart had stopped beating. And he knew when it started again.  
  


He knew Brian saw it too because he felt the arms around his waist go slack. He felt the long exhale against his ear when the beeping came back. The breath against his ear was like the beeping… he really hadn’t noticed it until it stopped. Now it seemed primary for it to continue. Both the beeping and the breathing. He refused to move.  
  


Justin stood still and concentrated only on repeating electronic sound of that fucking machine and the soft whisper of air against his ear. They were the only two things that mattered.  
  


They both stayed like that. They didn’t move when someone looked up and then closed the blinds so that they could no longer see into the room. They simply stood. Both with blood spattered on their shirt. Both with ravaged faces and memories that were supposed to have been put away forever. Neither spoke. Neither moved.  
  


It must have been several hours later that someone guided them to a couple of chairs. A doctor apparently, or maybe a nurse, in scrubs. Someone else hand handed the coffee. Neither even bothered to thank them, or drink it.  
  


Now there was a woman standing in front of them. her hospital scrubs were bright and cheery. Her face wasn’t they both stared vacantly as she tried to stay clinical and tell them what was wrong. Justin didn’t know if Brian understood what she was saying. He couldn’t process what she was saying. Was she even speaking English?  
  


“What?”  
  


“Aaron Taylor.”  
  


“My brother.”  
  


“He’s been hurt.”  
  


Justin nodded and considered punching the woman and finding someone who could tell them something they didn’t know.  
  


“He’ll need to stay here for a day or two. His hip’s been dislocated. He’s got several broken ribs. He was…”  
  


“Where was all the blood coming from?”  
  


Justin looked at Brian and almost didn’t recognize him. The woman took a deep breath. “He was cut. His face, and his neck. They nicked the jugular. He was… he almost didn’t… he’ll be okay now. We fixed it.”  
  


“Is he awake?”  
  


“He’s sedated. We don’t think there was any head trauma that would result in loss of consciousness. He just lost a lot of blood.”  
  


Justin felt something oily and cold inside him. He moved quickly to find the men’s room and threw up again. He moved slowly but went back to join Brian.   
  


“So he’ll be awake tomorrow.”  
  


“The police will want to talk to him then.”  
  


Brian nodded, “we’ll be here”.  
  


“I’m sorry but…”  
  


“Put him in a private room and we’ll be here. He’s a kid and he’s not waking up in a hospital alone.”  
  


She nodded curtly and walked away. Justin put his hand on the small of Brian’s back but he seemed to flinch at the contact and walked away.  
  


Justin sat down, staring at his hands.   
  


“Fuck.”  
  


Brian looked up. “What?”  
  


“Phone calls.”  
  


Brian closed his eyes and Justin pulled out his phone, scrolling through numbers. “Alicia. My mother, Debbie…”  
  


Brian took his phone. “You call your mother, and Debbie, and Matt. I’ll call Alicia.”  
  


Justin suddenly wondered who’d called his mother when he’d been in the hospital. Had Brian done it? He was over 18. They hadn’t been required to call her. Had they done it anyway? Was it Michael? His brain was spinning with questions he’d never considered. Things he’d never really thought about. Things he’d never thought to ask.   
  


“Brian, I can call her. I can…”  
  


“I’ll do it.”   
  


Brian's expression was painfully dark and not at all blank. Didn’t Brian get expressionless when there was too much emotion? He was… Justin inhaled deeply and went to the pay phone to make the calls. Brian stepped outside to use Justin’s phone.   
  


They felt the loss of each other’s presence and when Brian finally found Justin again the nurse gave them the room information.  
  


They sat, quietly. The room was dark. The tube had been removed. Aaron was bandaged and bruised, but he was no longer bloody. He was just asleep.   
  


Just asleep. Just asleep. Just asleep. Just asleepjustasleepjustalseepjustasleep. Justin repeated it over and over in his head. He had to. Except for the small rise and fall of his chest, Aaron looked dead.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian’s hand was resting on Justin's neck. Occasionally he slid it through is hair and then brought it back to it’s original resting spot. He tried to tell himself that he was being irrational. He tried to tell himself that any resemblance to what had happened to Justin was purely coincidental. He tried to tell himself a lot of things. The only thing he trusted was the warm solid unbroken feeling of Justin's head under his fingertips. The small raised spot where the scar tissue was. Proof that it had happened. Proof that it had healed. Proof that it wasn’t happening now.  
  


He wanted to say something but there was nothing to say. There was no way to know what happened until Aaron woke up. He breathed deeply then. _When_. At least there was no if this time. Alicia would be here by morning. He’d had Cynthia book the flight. Matt would spread the word to Aaron’s friends. Becca would deal with notifying the school.  
  


Everything was under control. Except… except there was blood all over the floor at home. Except Justin had said maybe five words since Aaron had collapsed. Except there was a broken and bloody Taylor kid that he’d taken responsibility for, currently lying in a hospital bed and being checked for internal bleeding every hour or so. Except this shit followed him around and anyone he let in got hurt. Except, except, except.  
  


He looked over towards the bed and watched as Aaron’s chest rose and fell with each breath. No machines. Kid was just sleeping. He felt Justin move away from him and realized maybe he hadn’t been as gentle as he thought when he gave a small supportive squeeze to his neck.   
  


He took the chair on the other side of the room and let Justin stay close to Aaron. He considered leaving. There were a million excuses, some even valid. Clothes that weren’t splattered with Aaron’s blood. Coffee. Food. He couldn’t leave. Not 'til Aaron woke up. Not 'til they knew what happened. Not 'til Justin showed some expression other than complete shock. He was staying right here for now.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin’s POV  
  


If I knew what to do, I’d do it. This must be that helpless thing that Brian deals with all the time. The absolute need to fix something that’s not fixable. To do something when there’s nothing to be done.  
  


Aaron’s… he’s gonna be fine. That’s what they keep saying. What they don’t say is what their definition of “fine” is. He’s got a lot of bandages on his face and neck. He’s got stitches. They nicked the jugular? Can you get your jugular cut and still live? He lost a lot of blood. They gave him more. Um, more blood. Blood. God, there was a lot of fucking blood.  
  


I should be worried about Aaron. I am worried about Aaron. But I’m almost as worried about Brian. He looks like he’s about to fall apart. I’ve seen him bad before. Seen him drunk and crying. Seen him sober and hurt. I’ve seen him scared and angry and blank, but I’ve never seen him this raw.   
  


That’s not true.  
  


I saw him this raw once. But that was different. That was… that was too similar to this for either of us to be comfortable. Crisis. Brian’s always good in a crisis right? But is the crisis over? That’s when he shatters. Is he about to shatter? Am I?  
  


That’s the thing. I should be worried about both of them. I am worried about both of them but I’m such a selfish asshole that I can’t stop worrying about myself. My hands are shaking. My stomach is roiling. I should be angry. I’m not angry. I’m scared. I’m scared for Aaron and I’m scared for Brian but I’m also just…   
  


It’s not about me. I know that. But why do I feel like there’s someone lurking around the corner. Why do I want to turn every light in this fucking room on and get rid of the shadows?  
  


I startle every time a nurse comes in. My heart starts beating faster. They’re here to help, why the fuck do they scare me so much? And then there’s the biggest question mark. What the fuck happened?  
  


It’s what, Sunday morning? So Aaron went out on a Saturday night. Was he? Did he? Was… did… fuck. I can’t even fucking think about it. Was this some guy he was going off with? Some guy he was gonna go off with? Some guy he didn’t want to go off with?   
  


They’re not telling us everything I know that. What they’re not telling us is scaring the shit out of me. He wasn’t hit by a car. Someone did this. I’m not sure how I know that. Maybe I’ve just had too much experience with violence but this is man made pain. This is hand-to-hand, fist to body damage. There’s this word. It’s like, in red letters, and it’s floating around in front of my eyes. I can’t close my eyes. When I do I see him. Standing in the doorway, bloody, pale, hurt. And the word shows up then. And I need that word to go away. I need my brother back, the way he was. Overconfident, obnoxious. The little half-breed. What happens if the word gets written down, if the reality is RAPE. Fuck. I’m gonna throw up again.   
  


Brian’s watching Aaron. One eye is still on me. I know he’s watching and I don’t want to fall apart. If he needs to fall apart, I need to be strong. I can do this. I can… fuck…  
  


Okay. Better. Cold water on my face. A few deep breaths. I move slowly back into this sickeningly dark room and I want to turn on the TV. It’s stupid but I want the noise and the sound and the color and the distraction but I don’t want to wake him. That’s stupid too. If nurses poking and prodding doesn’t wake him, the TV won’t.   
  


I sit back against the window seat thing. I guess you’re supposed to stretch out and nap on it when you’re waiting for someone to wake up. I’m not falling asleep. To do that I’d have to close my eyes. I can’t close my eyes. The blood’s behind them.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


He needs to get some sleep. Hell, so do I. I can’t. I’ll be fine. I should get some coffee but I don’t want to leave. Actually, I desperately want to leave. I’m afraid once I walk out of this room I’m gonna keep walking. Just go. Never look back.  
  


Probably best for the both of them. Get the fuck out of their lives. What the fuck happened? What the fuck happened? WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?   
  


I can’t stop. I need Aaron to wake up and answer the fucking question. I’m angry with him right now that he hasn’t told me. No, that’s _not_ rational. He’s been unconscious since a couple seconds after I opened the door. It’s not a good enough excuse. How the fuck am I supposed to fix this if I don’t know what happened?  
  


Justin’s too quiet. He’s not the rambling twink he was when I met him but he’s still chatty. He’s not talking. He’s not sleeping either. He’s not moving. He’s staring straight ahead. He flinches when the nurses come in. He’s scared. Does he know something? Is there someone to be afraid of?   
  


What the fuck? There’s everyone to be afraid of. Goddammit this is bullshit. I want to scream but I might never fucking stop. I need a drink. I need a cigarette. I need Aaron to wake up and tell me what the fuck happened.   
  


Someone hurt him. Did someone _hurt_ him? Was he playing one of those annoying games? Was I supposed to be there to rescue him? I wasn’t. I didn’t. Fuck. Every time I look at him I see all that damn blood and I know I’m supposed to be focusing on him but I can’t stop looking over at Justin.   
  


Twinks covered in blood. Nothing new in my world right? Nothing new in his either. I want to hold him but if I move he’ll flinch. If he flinches I’ll leave. If I leave, I may never come back. I’m not moving. He’s not moving. We’re just waiting. And when I find out what happened. Then I’ll do something. I’ll fix this. This has to be fixed.  
  



	2. Chapter 2

  


  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter 2   


* * *

 

Aaron woke up once at about noon. Brian saw his eyes flutter and was at his side. He was about to launch into the barrage of questions that had been circling his brain for the last nine hours but one look at the kid’s face and he held back.

 

Aaron tried to smile. It didn’t work. He opened his mouth but then shut it again and winced. Brian hit the call button for the nurse. Justin was standing by the bedside now too. They looked at each other and for the first time in a while Brian had no idea what Justin was feeling. His eyes didn’t give anything away. He looked blank. Brian moved around the bed to allow the nurse better access to Aaron and to move closer to Justin. 

 

Justin moved away. Sitting again on the bench seat on the far side of the room. Brian took a step towards him and Justin flinched. He went back to his original chair on the opposite side of Aaron's bed. He watched the two of them and wondered if Justin needed a doctor. He looked pale. He still hadn’t slept.

 

The nurse shot something into Aaron's IV. “He’ll be asleep again soon. He won’t wake up for several hours. Maybe you two should get something to eat, or go home and get some sleep. We’ll call if his condition changes.”

 

Brian nodded. He had no intention of doing either of those things. He wasn’t leaving 'til he knew something.

 

Justin stood up slowly. “I’ll get you some clean clothes. And Aaron’s gonna need some too. I’ll bring back food.”

 

Brian wanted to reach out and touch Justin as he walked by but the way he was holding his body. His arms stiff at his sides, moving slowly as if he were in pain… he didn’t want to risk it. He simply nodded.

 

Justin left and Aaron moved a little in his sleep. Brian didn’t move at all.

 

At one in the afternoon Becca knocked gently on the doorframe and came in, trailed by Matt and Lee. She covered her mouth with her hand when she saw Aaron and Brian wanted to scream. He didn’t need more drama. He didn’t need anyone crying over Aaron. He needed some fucking answers.

 

Becca took a seat by Aaron’s side and held his hand.

 

“He’s sedated. He won’t be up for hours.”

 

Matt turned his attention away from the waif in the bed and towards Brian. “Christ, you look like shit. You need anything?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Justin went home to get clothes. Hopefully he’ll sleep.”

 

Matt nodded and took Becca’s arm. “Let’s go.” He tried to get Lee to join them but Lee refused to move and Matt shrugged. 

 

Brian knew Matt was going to check on Justin. Reluctantly, he admitted to himself that it was probably for the best that someone else take care of Justin for a little while. Besides, Alicia would be here any moment. He watched Aaron's hand curl around Lee’s and wondered if they were on again or off again this week. He had a feeling whatever the status prior, they were back on. 

 

Lee was staring at Brian. “He asked me to go with him.”

 

Brian leaned forward, more interested now. Lee knew something. “Where?”

 

“Some new club. A couple of the guys from his dorms were going. He asked me to come with him. I should have.”

 

“You know the guys he went with?”

 

Lee shook his head. “I told him I was busy.” 

 

“You know their names?” Brian didn’t really care about Lee’s guilt or useless excuses.

 

Lee was trying not to sob, the tears kept flowing and Brian tried to just ignore it. Crying accomplished nothing. “So he went out with some guys you don’t know, to a place you’ve never been.”

 

“I should have been there.” 

 

Brian didn’t argue the point. Someone sure as hell should have been there. He stood up. “I’m getting coffee. Pull yourself together. His mother will be here soon.”

 

For the first time in hours Brian left the room. The lights in the hallway were brighter. At this hour there were nurses and orderlies chatting and laughing at the desk. He stretched his back and straightened his shoulders. He could do this. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

It was still hot out in the afternoons. It wouldn’t really get fall like for another month. Justin debated taking a cab but decided to walk. He needed to clear his head, and smoke, and breathe non hospital air. He did all of those things for almost twenty blocks and then the heat, and the exhaustion hit him at once. He leaned against the nearest building and closed his eyes. Bad move.

 

He realized too late. And was throwing up in the alley between the buildings. Yellow bile. His throat was raw, his face was red, his eyes were watering and he thought he might pass out. He moved shakily to the curb and hailed a cab. It took him a moment to remember the address. He knew he needed sleep and a shower, but he couldn’t imagine being locked in a shower stall at the moment. Closing his eyes was out of the question. He decided he’d make some coffee when he got home.

 

He paid the fare and went upstairs to find Matt and Becca standing in front of the door waiting for him.

 

“Justin. Christ…”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Becca reached an arm out to comfort him. He shrugged her off. “I’ve gotta get Aaron some clothes, and Brian. And me. And I think I need some coffee.”

 

They both nodded at him as if he were a small child they were humoring. He glared. “I’m okay. Go away.”

 

He unlocked the door and stopped. It was so sudden Matt actually bumped into him. The floor. There was… blood. He moved quickly to the kitchen sink and dry heaved. When did he get so squeamish about blood?

 

Becca didn’t say a word. She gathered some cleaning supplies from under the sink and started to clean. Matt was running a hand down Justin’s back. “You okay?”

 

Justin glared and Matt gave him a crooked smile. “Stupid question huh?”

 

Justin ignored the question and started the coffeemaker. Matt put his hand on Justin's arm. Justin pulled it away. “Justin, why don’t you get some sleep? Aaron’s not gonna be awake for a while. Brian can wait.”

 

Justin shook his head. “Can’t sleep. Don’t wanna sleep. I’m fine. I’ve got shit to do.” The coffee started he moved to the bedroom and pulled out some clean clothes for Brian, and searched through his own stuff 'til if found something Aaron could wear. He threw it all into a duffle bag. He pulled off his own clothes and threw them to the side. He stared at the pile for a moment and then picked them up and threw them in the trashcan. He was about to pull a shirt on when he looked down at his own chest. Blood.

 

The blood had soaked through. Just a few spots but… he leaned his hand against the doorjamb to steady himself. Eventually he leaned his forehead against the wall and just stood. He was trying to think rationally but he couldn’t. 

 

Matt found him like that. Naked, standing with his head against the wall. His eyes open and unseeing. He moved past him and filled the tub with warm water and guided Justin towards it.

 

Justin didn’t say a word. He felt the hands on his shoulders and he wanted to protest but he’d run out of energy. He climbed the two steps to the tub and then sank into the water. Even then he didn’t close his eyes. He felt Matt’s presence and wanted to tell him to go away. He didn’t have the energy for that either. He washed his hair automatically, sinking under the water to rinse it. He scrubbed at the spots on his chest 'til he couldn’t tell where Aaron’s blood had been because the rest of his skin was too red and raw. 

 

When he finally stood up he found the words he’d been looking for. 

 

“Go away.”

 

Matt shook his head. “Justin. Get some sleep or…”

 

“I’ve got to get back.” Justin was drying his hair with the towel. He hung it back on the rack carefully and pulled on a pair of jeans. He pulled a shirt out of the drawer and automatically shoved his wallet and phone into his pockets. He looked around aimlessly for a moment and then walked barefoot out of the bedroom.

 

He walked in circles. He knew he was looking for something, he knew he’d know it when he saw it. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. 

 

Becca eventually interrupted his thoughts, or lack of them. “Justin. What are you looking for?”

 

Justin stopped and seemed to consider the question carefully. He scanned the apartment again. He noticed the slightly discolored spot on the floor was no longer bloody. He headed towards the coffee maker and pulled down two mugs. He poured himself a large cup and then poured another, adding three times as much sugar.

 

He sat on the barstool at the kitchen counter and drank it slowly and almost laughed when he realized he’d made Brian a cup too. Instead he shook his head and poured it down the drain. He rinsed both mugs carefully and put them in the dishwasher. He took a deep breath and headed towards the door. “Lock the door when you leave.”

 

“Justin.”

 

“Not now Becca.”

 

“Justin, you’re not wearing any shoes.”

 

Justin looked at his feet to confirm the fact. He gave a lopsided grin. “That’s what I was looking for.”

 

Becca had moved Justin’s sneakers. He’d kicked them off when he’d first come in and they had been spattered in blood. She looked at Matt who nodded and found a pair in the back of Justin’s closet. He handed them to the blonde and watched, as he seemed to contemplate the mechanics of putting them on. Eventually he seemed to remember what he was doing. Both Becca and Matt followed Justin out silently. Neither was willing to lay odds on his ability to get back to the hospital of his own volition. 

 

He started walking but didn’t argue when Matt hailed a cab and ushered him inside. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

Brian was back in Aaron’s room. He hadn’t even bothered to drink the coffee he’d bought. Alicia had come in several minutes ago and the nurses were filling her in on his condition. 

 

He heard her ask the question he hadn’t been able to. 

 

“Was he… was it.. Did someone… rape?”

 

Brian heard a strangled noise behind him and looked up just in time to see Justin crumple to the ground.

 

He moved quickly but one of the nurses pushed him away. She took his pulse and said his name a few times. Justin’s eyes opened slowly and Brian exhaled. 

 

The nurse looked at them sternly. “The both of you need to eat something. And sleep. You’re not helping him. You’re not helping yourselves.”

 

Brian nodded. Justin struggled to stand up and Brian wrapped an arm around his waist. Justin pulled away but followed when Brian gestured almost imperceptibly with his head. 

 

Neither of them spoke as Brian led the way to the cafeteria. He sat Justin at an empty table and got them both some coffee and sandwiches. 

 

They were sitting across from each other. Neither speaking. Brian started. “I’ll eat if you will.”

 

Justin nodded and took a small bite of the turkey that was currently between his fingers. He’d been systematically dismantling the sandwich.

 

Brian took a bite of his own and tried not to wince. He wasn’t hungry. He pushed the coffee towards Justin who shook his head. “Had some at home.”

 

“They’re saying he’s gonna be okay.”

 

Justin shrugged. “Yeah, I guess he will.”

 

“I’d like to know what happened.”

 

Justin’s face paled visibly. “There was a lot of blood.”

 

Brian nodded. “Scared the shit out of me.”

 

“Becca cleaned I up.”

 

Brian’s expression changed. “Shit.” he thought to himself, “I fucking forgot. And I let him go home to that. Fuck.”

 

Justin looked up trying to catch Brian’s eye. “It’s okay. Someone had to go home. I’m okay.”

 

“Not sure you are.”

 

“You’re not okay either.”

 

“So you admit you’re not.”

 

“We don’t know, Brian. It might not have been… I mean he might not have been… he wasn’t… what did the nurse say when Alicia asked?”

 

Brian shook his head. He hadn’t heard the answer. He’d been too focused on watching Justin crash. “I don’t know.”

 

“We need to know.”

 

“We need to know a lot of things.”

 

“But especially this.”

 

“You think he was fucking around with someone he shouldn’t have. Doing his little flirting thing?”

 

Justin shrugged. “There are a lot of people who’d want to hurt Aaron.”

 

“You think he was bashed.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“I think someone was really angry and they took it out on my little brother.”

 

Brian didn’t know what to say to that. He gestured towards Justin’s sandwich. Justin took another bite. “I’m really not hungry.”

 

“It’ll give you something other than stomach lining to bring back up.”

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“Sorry’s bullshit.”

 

“Did they say when he’d wake up?”

 

Brian shook his head. “We can ask Alicia later.”

 

“God, she must be upset. I brought you clean clothes, and some for Aaron. Debbie was upset too but she said she’d be up when he was out of the hospital. I think she’s still trying to avoid you. My mother cried.”

 

“Moms do that.”

 

“Yeah. Who told her about… me?”

 

“Michael I think. I don’t remember much about that. There were a lot of people handling a lot of things.”

 

“But you were with me in the ambulance.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“So you were there when my heart stopped.”

 

Brian looked up surprised. “You know about that?”

 

“Yeah. They told me later.”

 

“That when they told you I was there at night?”

 

“No. I just… I found out about that a lot later.”

 

“Sorry about that.”

 

“Sorry’s bullshit. You had your reasons.”

 

“We’re gonna be okay.”

 

Justin nodded silently, tearing bits off the top of Brian’s empty Styrofoam coffee cup and dropping them inside. Brian took Justin's coffee, added sugar and drank half of it while he watched Justin’s hands fidget. He was watching carefully, if he hadn’t been he might not have noticed the small tremor in his right hand. But he knew to look for it. And he knew it was there. 

 

He took the cup out of Justin’s hand and tried to massage his fingers the way he’d done countless times before. Justin pulled away. “Don’t, Brian. Please. I just… don’t touch me.”

 

Brian tried not to be hurt, or worried. He was both.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Hours later they were all sitting silently. Lost to their own thoughts. Matt and Becca hand convinced Lee to leave. Alicia was sitting next to Aaron. Justin was back to the window seat staring outside at the parking lot, not really seeing anything. Brian was watching. Watching Alicia gently touch Aaron’s arm. Watching Justin startle at any sudden noise from the hallway. Watching his world spin out of his control.

 

He had willed it to happen so many times he almost didn’t believe it when Aaron's eyes fluttered open again. Alicia leaned over and smiled at him. He looked at her confused.

 

He didn’t say anything and closed his eyes. A minute or two later he opened them again and shifted his head. “Mom?” It was a croak and he winced. Brian went out to get a doctor, or a nurse, or anyone who could help him.

 

Justin looked over quickly when he heard the sound of Aaron's voice. He was standing at his side gripping Aaron’s arm tightly. 

 

Aaron looked over at him with annoyance. “Ow.” 

 

“You’re in pain. I’ll get someone to give you something.”

 

“You’re on my arm, freak.” 

 

Justin chuckled and relaxed his grip. Brian walked back in relieved to find Aaron still awake and Justin alert. Aaron tried to sit up and the nurse who was following behind Brian helped him. She adjusted the bed, checked his temperature, and made sure the heart rate monitor on his finger was working, and then left, but not before admonishing them all that Aaron still needed his rest.

 

Alicia sat back down, not releasing Aaron’s hand. Brian stood behind Justin and fought the urge to touch either of them.

 

“What the fuck happened?”

 

Brian heard the words and thought he might have to just give up. If Aaron didn’t know, no one did.

 

“You showed up kind of… um… you were a mess. Then you came here.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

Alicia was brushing the hair out of Aaron’s face. “Do you remember anything?”

 

“I was um. I… kinda. I went out.”

 

Justin nodded waiting. Brian didn’t move. “Some guys in the dorm heard about this new club, so we um, we went. And it was cool I think. You know, cool?” He looked at Justin and Brian begging them to understand without making him explain in front of his mother. They both nodded. 

 

Justin repeated the phrase. “Cool.”

 

“Yeah, so everything was cool, like really really cool.” 

 

Justin and Brian both understood and wondered if Alicia did as well. Aaron had been wasted. 

 

“So who did this to you?” Brian couldn’t stop the question. He had planned on asking quietly, later, not in front of Justin, a million other ways. But now the question was out there.

 

Aaron looked down at his fingers, twisting them in the blankets. Brian felt Justin freeze in front of him. He took his hand and bit back whatever that was he felt when Justin twisted it out of his grip.

 

“Some guys. They were. Um, we were gonna go back to the dorms, it was after two, and Scott had class the next day. So we were joking and heading back home when some guy yelled and I guess I yelled back.”

 

There was a soft knock. “The police are here.”

 

Aaron looked up. “Why?”  
  


The officer sat down across from Aaron. “Do you want to press charges?”

 

“Against what?”

 

“Against whoever did this to you.”

 

“I don’t know who it was. I didn’t really get a good look at them.”

 

“Him or them?”

 

“Them.” Aaron said. His head fell back on the pillow and he closed his eyes. He was crying. 

 

“He’s pressing charges.” Brian said. “You’ve got his clothes right? DNA, what the fuck ever. Find out who this was.”

The officer nodded. “I have to ask him some more questions.”

 

“Brian,” Alicia started, “maybe we should just let it go. He’s safe now. What good would…?”

 

Justin cut her off. “Alicia, he’s gotta fight this. Those fuckers shouldn’t get away with it.”

 

Aaron didn’t move his head. His voice was so soft they almost didn’t hear it. “I’ll tell you what I know but it won’t help. Can I do it later?”

 

The officer nodded and handed his card to each of them. “Call me as soon as you’re ready to talk. The sooner the better. I’d like to speak to each of you” he looked directly at Brian and Justin, “today”. They both nodded. There was nothing they could tell the officer he didn’t already know. Telling him that wouldn’t get them out of this however.

 

Alicia was crying again. She moved quickly and left the room to keep Aaron from seeing her fall apart. Justin moved away from Brian to the other side of the bed. Aaron opened his eyes.

 

“Did you have to call my mom?”

 

“Mom’s get weird about their kids and massive injuries.”

 

“Not that bad.”

 

Justin ran a hand down the bandage on Aaron’s neck. Brian could see he was clenching his teeth against his stomach’s rebellion. “They nicked your jugular.”

 

Aaron’s hand moved up to his neck. “Shit.”

 

“There was a lot of blood.”

 

“Oh Christ. This is probably gonna hurt tomorrow isn’t it?”

 

Brian nodded. “When you don’t have access to that hospital grade heroin, you’re gonna feel this.”

 

“Seems like it might be a good time to become a drug addict.”

 

Justin almost smiled. “You’ll be out in a few days. You can stay with us.”

 

Brian didn’t even look up. He’d expected the offer as much as he’d expected the response. “Fuck you I don’t need a couple of babysitters.”

 

“Aaron, you dislocated your hip…”

 

Brian cut in. “Stay where you want, you can’t use the steps for a couple months so the dorms are out. We’re just saying if you’d prefer a cardboard box, your call. The offer’s open.”

 

“What about Gus?”

 

“He’s only 45 minutes away not. Not as much need for the spare room. I think he’ll understand.”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“So what did happen?”

 

“I was wasted. Some guy called me and my friend a bunch of fucking faggots. I confronted him. They grabbed me.”

 

“How many?”  
  


Aaron shook his head and Justin wanted to tell Brian that now was not the time to ask questions. He prompted Aaron. “So they grabbed you.” 

 

“My friends, I don’t know what happened to them. Are they okay?”

 

“How did you get away?”

 

“I fought for a while but… then they left me alone, pulled out in their car.” Aaron wasn’t crying…there was no expression in his voice. “I stood up and walked to your place. I didn’t want to go back to the dorms looking like that. That’s all I remember.”

 

“You did the right thing.”

 

Aaron winced. “Yeah, sure.”

 

Justin rested a hand on his arm. “You did.” 

 

“Okay, now can you guys do me a favor?”

 

“Anything.” Justin said.

 

“Within reason.” Brian amended

 

“Go home. Get my mother out of here if you can but Christ. You both look like shit. Go home and sleep. Please. I’m okay. I promise.”

 

They looked at each other and then back at Aaron. “We’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

 

Aaron nodded. “I know. But fucking sleep before then. I’m not dead.”

 

They left and Brian called the officer and arranged for them to come in and give their statements.

 

Justin looked at him questioningly.

 

“You ready to go home?”

 

Justin shook his head. Brian nodded, “figured”.

 

They took the cab together. Justin let Brian touch his arm but he was conscience of it every moment and it took most of his strength not to shake him off. They entered the station house and were taken to separate rooms.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*

 

Brian’s POV

 

If he asks me the same question again I’m going to kick his fucking ass. I was in bed, with my male fucking lover; if you have an issue with that, fuck off. I heard the door. I answered it. It was my half-breed in law. He bled on my floors and then I followed them to the hospital. Why is this taking a fucking hour? How the hell is Justin putting up with this?

 

Is he crying, or still numb and expressionless. Or maybe he’s throwing up all over their interrogation room. Serve them right. Let us get the fuck out of here. Go find the assholes who did this. Goddammit.

 

I go over my story ONE more fucking time and the guy lets me go. Finally. Now I just have to find Justin and get him home. Once we’re home I’ll figure out what to do about him. Let’s just get the fuck home.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Justin’s POV

 

I don’t understand why I’m required to tell him again. I don’t roll my eyes, I don’t sigh. I tell him.

 

We were in bed, it was almost three am. Yes, we are partners, yes; our relationship is of a sexual nature. Don’t use the word romantic in front of Brian. He’ll hit the guy asking the questions.

 

Yeah, okay, so, we were in bed and we heard the door and we went to the door and then I called an ambulance and you know the rest. Why exactly has this taken an hour and a half? 

 

Whatever I guess he’s finally happy with my answers because I leave. Brian’s standing there waiting for me. Looking at me expectantly. I’m not sure what exactly he’s expecting.

 

I think he’s expecting me to fall apart. I think I did that already. I fucking passed out. Could I be more of a stupid little faggot? Passing out at… that word. The one I still don’t know the answer to. I think it’s no. I think we would know… I think he would have said something. I think they’d be… I think I just want it to be no. 

 

It’s weird. I feel unsure around Brian now. He wants to touch me. It’s not even that he wants to. He just does. He always does. His hand in my hair, his arm on my shoulder, he’s like that, tactile. But I can’t stand it right now. He bristles when I brush him off, but I can’t NOT. I can’t stand the feel of anyone touching me right now. 

 

I’m walking towards him and I see him hold out his hand and I see him pull it back and I realize I must have frowned at it or something. Must have looked scared or something. I have to stop this bullshit and get it together. Falling apart accomplishes nothing. 

 

So I walk towards him and I take his hand and I fight back the urge to drop it like it burned me. 

 

He hails a cab and doesn’t let go of my hand. I think he’s afraid if he does, I won’t let him touch me again. I’m not ready to talk. At least he gets that. I’m being such a pussy and he’s being so fucking strong and I know he’s hurting over this too but he’s handling it so much better than I am and I just want to thank him, and maybe just smack him a little for once again being a better man than I am.

 

Fuck. I hate this. I hate not being able to help. I hate feeling scared. I hate all of it.

 

We don’t say a word until we’re inside the apartment. We’re both wandering around kind of lost. Not sure what to do. It’s still early. Only a little after seven. We could order food. Brian probably should eat something. I’m not hungry. I’m not gonna make him eat if he’s not. 

 

We could just watch TV but… it all seems so pointless and normal and wrong. Wrong when Aaron’s healing. Wrong when we still haven’t resolved or fixed anything. Wrong wrong wrong.

 

He’s looking at me and I realize he’s waiting for an answer. I didn’t hear the question.

 

“You hungry?”

 

I shake my head and he just nods and I want to fucking thank him. Yeah, if I go days or months, he’s allowed to worry, today, I’m not eating. Deal.

 

“I can make something if you are.” That would work, give me something to focus on. He shakes his head.

 

I don’t know what else to do. I go to the studio and move aside the canvas I was working on. I stare at the blank one for a long time. I have no idea how long. I don’t keep a clock in here. Brian says I should but that’s only because he hates when I’m late because I lost track of time. I don’t want to keep track of time here. 

 

I’m using the charcoal and sketching a few lines onto the white. I’m really not paying attention. I’m not thinking about what I’m starting, or if I’ll finish or who might buy it. It’s just about creating something. Proving I’m still alive. Proving this didn’t kill me. None of it has killed me. 

 

And I’ve shut off my brain completely. I don’t have to close my eyes when I’m working. This is good. Maybe I’ll move into my studio. Put up a cot in the corner and never worry about time or closing my eyes until my body just gives out. 

 

I’m almost smiling at the thought when I automatically reach for the paint. I open the small can and I’m sick again. RED. I look at the canvass and the pattern is familiar. It’s the one behind my eyes when I close them. It’s that pool of blood by Aaron’s neck, the way it flowed sick, and oily and gracefully across the floor. I must have made a sound, or not made enough sound because Brian’s standing there. He’s pulling at my arm and I try to pull away but I realize he’s pulling me up.

 

Fuck. I’m such a useless faggot. I think I passed out again, or something. He’s pulling me towards the bedroom. RED. I can’t close my eyes. I can’t keep them open. Why the fuck is the bedroom RED? We have to repaint it tomorrow. 

 

I think I say that out loud because he’s nodding. He seems to understand.

 

His hands are gentle and I’m trembling. I want to move away from his touch. I try to but he won’t let me. He’s whispering in my ear.

 

“Stop. Stop pulling away. I won’t hurt you.”

 

He won’t. He won’t try to. He might anyway, but he’ll try not to. It hurts. Everything hurts. There’s no place safe in the world. He was at a gay club, in New York, with friends. He was in a place that’s supposed to be safe. He wasn’t “flaunting” his “lifestyle” at a high school prom. He wasn’t in some backwater redneck red state. RED. He was on Christopher Street, in the village, dancing, at a club. And he felt invincible, and he told them to fuck off. And they almost killed him.

 

Okay now I am a faggot and I am not going to cry. I’m naked and Brian pulls back the duvet and it’s only…oh, it’s eleven. Where the fuck did the time go? 

 

He slides in next to me and he pulls me against him. He’s expecting me to cry. Not gonna happen. RED. It’s dark, my eyes are open but pressed against his chest and I see RED. But he’s shaking too. He’s shaking and I look up and he’s crying. And now I know I won’t cry. I let him hold me. We shake together. We just… let the horror wash over the both of us. Because there’s nothing left to do but deal and maybe tomorrow we can do that but tonight. Tonight I think maybe we both need to be here in this one safe place. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

Brian’s POV

 

He lets me hold his hand on the way out of the station. I need to touch him. I never really paid attention to how much I touch him until he started pulling away. I need to feel him. Strong, solid, present. I don’ t let go of his hand and I can see him struggle with it but he needs to.

 

I can give him what he wants. Always will, as long as it’s not in direct opposition to what he needs. He needs to be touched. I’m not being selfish. Okay, I’m being selfish, but I’m not wrong. He can’t withdraw. He can’t become someone who’s afraid of the simplest gesture of affection. Not because of this, not because of anything. 

 

So I hold his hand and we sit in the cab and he’s still fighting it but he’s letting me and I’m gonna take that as a good sign.

 

Home is a different story. We’re gonna have to have someone refinish the floors, that stain has to be removed. He can’t stop looking at it. I pace on the other side of the room hoping to draw his attention. He’s still staring blankly at the floor, walking in a large circle around the fucking marks that Aaron’s blood left on the hardwood. Would an area rug fix it for the time being? I have no idea. I’ll call someone tomorrow.

 

I ask if he’s hungry and he doesn’t hear me. I repeat it and he says he’s not. Fine. He’ll eat eventually. If he doesn’t I’ll make sure he does. That I can fix.

 

He asks me if I want him to cook. Yeah, um, good idea. You can barely focus or hold your head up, go play with sharp knives and fire. I shake my head and he looks… disappointed? I’m not sure. He’s been a little inscrutable lately.

 

He moves to the studio and I remember what he told me after the stop prop 14 bomb. Creating something lets him know they haven’t won. That he’s still alive. I move towards the shower. He’s safe in the studio. He feels safe in there. He needs to know he’s still alive.

 

I see the trashcan with his clothes from yesterday, last night, this morning, whatever. I check the pockets to make sure he’s not throwing out anything important and then throw mine in there too. The blood may come out… I don’t really care. I don’t want them anymore.

 

I’m trying to wash the blood of my skin and thinking about lady Macbeth and the whole “out damn spot, out” thing. And then I’m thinking of some stupid TV show that tried to use that as an ad campaign. Was it Gilligan’s Island? Did they do the Shakespeare as a musical thing? Which movie had Richard Dreyfuss practice King Lear as a swishy fag? This is the shit I think about when he’s not in the shower with me… _The Goodbye Girl!_ that was a stupid fucking movie. 

 

I’m dry and I’m sitting in bed, smoking and trying to think of a reason not to drink a shit load of beam when I hear something clatter. I move to the studio and I think I might have blacked out for a second.

 

Justin’s on the floor covered in blood. But then reality sets in and I realize he’s spilled red paint all over his jeans and he’s not exactly alert. I try to get him to stand but he’s resisting me. And I’m worried about Aaron, and I’m pissed about what those fuckers did to him but right now…I’m really scared for Justin and I fucking hate being scared. I pull him to the bedroom and strip off the second ruined pair of jeans. He’s mumbling something about red and I’m not sure what but he’s shaking now. 

 

He’s pulling away again but I’m not letting that happen. He’s disappeared into his head and I need to get him back out into the world. His head’s a scary place. No one can live there full time. 

 

I’m whispering in his ear and he’s shaking against my body. I pull back the duvet and we both climb in. I’m holding him, and he’s letting me and then I just… I’m gone. I’ve lost it. I’m crying like a fucking faggot and I’m not drunk and I’m not stoned and I have a good reason to be both.

 

I’ve tried so hard to keep them both safe. I can’t keep anyone safe. I fucking hate this world. I fucking hate myself. I fucking hate the color red. He’s right. We’re repainting tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow. First we need to see Aaron. Make sure he’s okay. Then I really do need to call Lindsay and let her know what’s going on. I’ve got to find a painter and we need a new bed, and someone to refinish the floors but for now. For right now. For this very moment… I just need to hold him and I need to be here, in our bed, with him. There’s no other place I feel safe. There’s no other place I _know_ that he’s safe. I’m thinking I’m putting him on complete bed rest for the next fifty years. 

 

Yeah, can’t wait to hear what he has to say about that. I really hope he argues against it. I don’t want him to give up. And the thought of him giving up makes me cry again. The feel of his warm body against mine just makes me want to hold him tighter. I feel his arms slip around me and I think eventually we fell asleep but only because we both knew we were safe…at least for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

  


  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter 3   


* * *

 

Brian woke up first. His arm was trapped under Justin and his back was in knots. The tension of the last 24 hours was still with him. He tried to move but Justin seemed to be unmovable, his legs entwined around Brian's, his arm draped over Brian’s waist. His face wasn’t peaceful. The tension was there in his jaw, around his eyes, even in sleep. 

 

Brian tried again, assuming Justin's arm was not going to feel much better than his when he woke up… and then realized he was actually trapping Justin’s right arm to the bed, his efforts became a little more determined. A few moments later Justin released his death grip and Brian rolled onto his back. Justin sprawled on his stomach across his own side of the bed, never waking. 

 

Brian tried to go back to sleep but it was too late. He was awake and he wasn’t gonna sleep again anytime soon. His brain was ticking and drawing up a list of things to do. He got up and started the coffee grabbing his phone off the charger. It was only five am, too early to call anyone. He stared at his phone for a long time, sipping his coffee and trying to calculate a plan of attack.

 

Brian had no idea how long he’d been sitting there when Justin appeared. He was freshly showered and still yawning. He moved slowly. Justin was pouring himself a cup of coffee. Brian was working on his third.

 

He was staring at his phone and waiting for the clock to give him the okay to make the calls he needed to. 

 

They both startled when it rang. He answered quickly. 

 

“Kinney.”

 

“Brian. I need you to do me a favor.”

 

“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”

 

“I’ve been asleep forever.”

 

“What do you need?”

 

“Clothes. And food, and to get me the fuck out of here.”

 

“When the doctors say so.”

 

“Now.”

 

“Not yet. Can’t your mommy bring you food?”

 

“That’s the other thing I need.”

 

“Your mommy?”  
  


“Get her to go home. She’s not helping.”

 

“They rarely do, but they don’t give up either.”

 

“She’s just gonna cry and worry. I’m fine.”

 

Brian didn’t believe that for a moment. “She’ll go back home in a couple of days.”

 

“Today Brian. The… um… the…I’ve got to talk to the police and she’s just gonna…”

 

“I’ll do what I can.”

 

“Thanks. Bacon, eggs, waffles, sausage, orange juice, anything that doesn’t come from the hospital cafeteria.”

 

“Another hour and a half 'til you’re allowed visitors.”

 

“The nurse will let you in, she’s nice.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“Guess asking Justin to stay home is pushing it huh?”  
  


“You’d guess right.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

Brian hung up and met Justin's questioning gaze. “Aaron wants food, and clothes and for us to put his mother back on a plane.”

 

He saw Justin nod. “I’ll call Lee and get him to bring some clothes over. We can pick up food on the way. They’ll probably let us in to see him early. A couple of the nurses have a crush on you. A couple have a crush on him.”

 

“You’ve got your own fan club.”

 

Justin shrugged. “If it gets Aaron what he needs.”

 

Brian headed towards the shower and left the part about the police out. Justin didn’t need to worry more than he already was.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Justin pulled a bag out from beside the fridge and piled in some supplies for Aaron. Juice, the cookies Brian swore they only kept in the place for Aaron, a couple of those bottled energy drinks. He called Lee.

 

“Hi.”

 

“How’s Aaron.”

 

“He called this morning, he needs clothes. And we’re gonna have to move his stuff out of the dorms.”

 

“Um, yeah. He can stay with me.”

 

“He’s staying here.”

 

“Okay, I was just offering.”

 

“Whatever. He’s staying here. But he needs his PSP2 and whatever book he was reading.”

 

“He doesn’t read.”

 

“Yes he does, just not when he’s with you.”

 

“Whatever. I’ll get it and meet you at the hospital.”

 

“You’re not staying.”

 

“Justin. He’s your brother, and I’m sorry, but fuck off. I’m staying.”

 

“Not yet Lee. He needs to heal. You two weren’t even a couple when…”

 

“We were friends. We’ve been friends.”

 

“Hospital, soon.” Justin hung up the phone.

 

Lee called Matt.

 

Brian and Justin stopped at a diner and got Aaron an obscene amount of breakfast food. 

 

Aaron smiled widely at the two of them when then came in. Justin put the food on the table and rolled it over to his bed. He took a big bite and drank half the orange juice in one go. He looked up at them again. This time he wasn’t smiling. “You two still look like shit.”

 

Brian shrugged. “Long night.”

 

“I thought you were gonna get some sleep.”

 

“We did.” Justin cut in. His arms crossed in front of him. 

 

“Did you bring me clothes?”  
  


“Lee’s bringing them. I brought you sweats and a t shirt yesterday.”

 

“Those are yours. I want my own clothes. I want to get out of here.”

 

“Doctor said not for a couple days.”

 

“Don’t care. Now.”

 

“Aaron…” Justin started.

 

Aaron pushed his food away. “I hate hospitals and they keep looking at me with these sad eyes. I get it. I was hot, now I’ve got a scar. I need to get out of here.”

 

“Scar will heal. The plastic surgeon’s coming to do an evaluation later today.”

 

They both looked at Brian with surprise. 

 

Aaron spoke up first. “Huh?”  
  


“Called a guy. He’ll fix that line on your face and throw in some botox for free.”

 

“I’m 21 I don’t need botox.”

 

“The botox wasn’t for you half-breed.”

 

Aaron seemed to think about it. “Is the surgery gonna hurt?”

 

“Probably not as much as your hip does now.”

 

“That doesn’t hurt at all, but the nurses love to give out the good stuff.”

 

“No shit.” Justin sat down heavily on the chair next to the bed. “You’ll be out of here soon enough. We’re moving your stuff today.”

 

“Moving my stuff to where? Why? What the fuck?”

 

“Aaron. Be reasonable. You know you can’t…”

 

“I’m not gonna miss an entire semester because…”

 

Justin reached out to touch Aaron but pulled his hand back before they made contact. Aaron missed the gesture, Brian didn’t. 

 

“Stay with us for a week. By then you’ll have driven us insane and we’ll ship you back to the dorms or off with a friend.”

 

“Why can’t I stay at Matt’s?”

 

“Because Becca’s back.”

 

“Why can’t I stay with Lee?”

 

“Because you’re staying with us.” Justin said and Aaron didn’t argue. He was too fucking tired and Justin was too fucking stubborn.

 

Brian excused himself to make some phone calls. Lee entered just as Brian was leaving. He tossed the PSP towards Aaron and it thudded against his chest. Aaron gave an awkward smile. “Sorry, hospital drugs slow the reflexes.”

 

Lee looked like he was about to cry and Justin seriously considered pulling him out of the room, or just leaving. Just getting the fuck out of here but he sat resolutely in the chair. The police were gonna be here today to question Aaron. He had a feeling Brian knew that too and was trying not to tell him. Didn’t matter. He wasn’t leaving. Aaron having to relive the whole thing was not his idea of a healthy way to recover. He wasn’t leaving. He fought down the bile in the back of his throat and tried not to flinch at the loud laughter coming from the nearby nurses’ station. He wasn’t leaving.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Aaron’s POV

 

Lee is staring at Justin like he’s mad at him. Justin is staring at the wall like he’s mad at it. I’m just trying to figure out what the hell happened.

 

The police are coming by today to take my statement. The doctors think I should see a shrink. I think I need to get the fuck out of here. I don’t want to keep going over this. I see it in my mind. Flashes, pieces, bits. I don’t remember anything that’s gonna help them catch the guy. I don’t remember anything that’s gonna make my face better, or my hip stop hurting.

 

Can you ID a guy based on how bad his breath was? Can you prosecute someone on the damning evidence that one of his teeth was crooked and that his knife was really shiny? I don’t fucking think so.

 

This is… this is bad. It’s the only word that I can think of. It’s not enough, there are better words I’m sure. Brian could probably come up with a few choice ones but he’s not saying a whole lot. Neither is Justin, which is kind of weird. They’re both like… whatever. They’ll be fine. They’re always fine. I’ll be fine, I always land on my feet but…

 

Fuck, I can’t land on my feet because I can’t walk without crutches. I can’t go back to the dorms. This semester is probably shot to hell. My mother won’t stop fucking crying. This is so bad. That word again.

 

I remember thinking it the minute I felt the guy touch me. BAD. And then I saw someone from the corner of my eye and I knew. I just fucking knew… BAD. I don’t remember a whole lot after that. They didn’t fuck me. Didn’t… rape me. But still… BAD.

 

I should be grateful. I know that. I’m alive. I’m okay. Hell, got off easier than Justin did. But that wasn’t his fault. This is my fault. I know that. I know that’s why Brian’s being so quiet. He wants to yell, he wants to tell me what a stupid twink I was being. He won’t do it while I’m in the hospital. I need him to do it. I know he’s right and I need someone to tell me the truth. 

 

I was being a twat. Drunk, wasted, feeling… GOOD. And then they said something and I was all swagger. I remember thinking that we could take them. I remember that my friends and I were laughing. Then I looked behind me and I was alone. BAD. He punched me and I punched back, but I don’t even think I hurt him. HIM. Brown eyes. And a weird mustache and bad breath. BAD. 

 

I felt something, when he kicked me. I fell and I knew I wasn’t getting up. I just… I KNEW. I felt something snap. That was probably when my hip fell out of joint. Yeah, BAD. But I still fought. I yelled. I… I didn’t fight hard enough. I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. They tried to warn me.

 

Brian, Justin, my mother, his mother, fuck, everyone. They all said I was gonna get hurt, I wasn’t being safe. I thought they were just old, and overprotective, and dumb. Nope. I was young and stupid, and bad. And now I’m gonna be stuck living with them. I guess I could go home. Live with my mom again…she blames me too. Maybe I should. Get the hell out of here.

 

I’ve only got a year left. I can finish somewhere else. I can… fuck. Matt just came in and…what the fuck is going on. Why’s Justin mad at Matt?

 

I can’t… this is all my fault. I can’t fix this. Maybe Brian can fix this. But I’m not sure. He can’t fix me. He can’t make me smart, or good. He…ouch.

 

I keep trying to forget about the pain but I can’t. It’s…BAD. Not just my hip. My back hurts; they say it’s just scraped. They had to remove gravel and shit from it. Don’t know when I lost my shirt, in the club somewhere. Yeah, bare-chested and wasted, wandering out of a gay club at two in the morning. I’m brilliant. 

 

I hit the call button and the nurse is smiling at me and she has that beautiful syringe full of whateverthefuck. It’s the most amazing shit. Better than crystal, better than E. You just… go to sleep, warm and pain free, and when you wake up, well, at least they’ll be arguing about something else.

 

I can’t go back to stay with them. They hate me now. Brian’s mad. And Justin’s… I’m not sure what’s going on there but it’s not good. And aaaah… sleep. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

“He’s my brother. He’s staying with me.”

 

“I can take care of him Justin.”

 

“Apparently not.”

 

“Bullshit. This is NOT my fault. It happened and it sucks but he doesn’t want to stay with you…”

 

“Did he tell you that?”

 

“He doesn’t have to.”

 

“Well, when he tells you that, let me know. Until then… even after that. He’s staying with me. With us.”

 

“Brian’s okay with this?”

 

Brian walked back into the room and took in the scene. Aaron was asleep. Medicated, he guessed. Lee, Matt and Justin were arguing, the two of them towering over Justin who was still sitting in the chair. He probably hadn’t moved since they’d gotten here. 

 

“Okay with what?”

 

“Aaron’s staying with us.”

 

Brian nodded. “Aaron’s staying with us.”

 

“This is bullshit.”

 

“Lee, you can see him whenever you want.”

 

“I didn’t do this to him.”

 

Lee backed away from Brian’s glare. Drawing Rage for the past year had only somewhat lessened the effect for Lee. He was still intimidated. “I didn’t hurt him.”

 

Brian nodded. “Doesn’t matter. He’s staying with us.”

 

Matt tried to pull Justin out of the chair. “Lets get some food.”

 

“Not hungry.”

 

“Let’s get some coffee.”

 

Justin shook his head.

 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

 

Justin settled back in the chair, making it clear he was there for the duration. Brian wasn’t sure if that was a good idea but he had to go let the painters in. It was gonna cost a fortune to have them do it on such short notice but he had to get rid of the red. 

 

He leaned down to kiss Justin’s cheek and felt his lack of response. He resisted the urge to wipe his mouth as he stood up. Justin’s skin felt cold. He wondered, not for the first time that day, if he needed a doctor. “I’ll be back. Have to run a couple of errands.”

 

Justin nodded absently and Brian left. Lee followed him out. Matt stayed.

 

“What?”

 

Lee looked startled. “I’m sorry.”

 

Brian stared again.

 

“I’m sorry he got hurt and I’m sorry Justin’s upset.”

 

“Justin’ll get over it. He’ll heal.” Brian walked away in long strides. He repeated the words to himself, wondering if he might find a time when he believed them.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

The painters were done. It hadn’t taken that long to lose the red. Brian was itching to get out of there but there were still a few important calls to make and the guy wasn’t done with the floor yet. He lit another cigarette, considered calling Justin but wasn’t sure what to say, or if Justin was even willing, or able, to talk. 

 

Finally the guy finished and promised to be back tomorrow to put a second coat of sealant on the newly refinished floor. Brian walked out with him and headed towards the garage. He called Lindsay from the car. 

 

“Wanna go shopping?”

 

“For what?”

 

“A new bed.”

 

“Brian did you and Justin break your bed?”

 

Brian almost smiled. “I wish. Long story. Aaron’s hurt.”

 

“Hurt? What happened?”

 

“Not sure. Bashed we think.”

 

“You think? Is he awake?”

 

“Yeah, doesn’t remember much.”

 

“I’m on my way.”

 

“Don’t. He’s got too many people in his room already, but we need a new bed.”

 

“Are you planning on having Aaron sleep in bed with the two of you?”

 

Brian almost smiled again. Lindsay could be funny when she tried to play dense. “It’s a long story. Wanna help me find a new bed?”

 

“Shouldn’t Justin go with you?”

 

“Do you want to come or not?”

 

“Gus is away at camp for the week, he left this morning.”

 

“Shit, I meant to call him.”

 

“It’s okay. You’ll send him a care package.”

 

“I will?”

 

“Won’t you?”  
  


This time Brian actually did smile. “Yeah, I will. Okay, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

 

Lindsay hung up the phone and bit her lip. Brian shopped alone, unless something was really upsetting him. Aaron, bashed. That was… eerily familiar. Justin, buying a new bed without Justin. That seemed unlike the two of them these days. She idly straightened up the apartment. Gus wouldn’t be back for a week, she had nothing better to do, and even if she had, Brian was reaching out. She’d go help him find a new bed. She wasn’t sure why the day after Aaron was hurt he needed one. She wasn’t sure that Brian would tell her why even if she went with him, but she knew that Brian needed her, and she could be there.

 

They were wandering around the store together. Brian didn’t even seem to be looking at anything specific. She pointed to one and he shook his head. “No red.” 

 

“No red? Your bedroom’s red.”

 

Brian shook his head again. “Had it painted this morning.”

 

“Brian. What happened? Was Aaron… did it happen at your place?”

 

“No. He was outside a club. Some guy started some shit… and finished it apparently.”

 

“Was he… did they… is Aaron okay?”

 

“Broke his hip, lot of blood. He’ll be okay. Just… Justin’s not really into the color red anymore.”

 

Lindsay started to understand. “How ‘bout you?”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Red, how do you feel about it?”

 

Brian threw himself onto a dark brown four-poster. “I’m fine. Just need to get rid of the red. Justin doesn’t want it there.”

 

“But you’d let it stay?”

 

“Justin doesn’t want it.”

 

“What do you want?”

 

Brian looked up at her and she sat on the edge of the bed. His eyes were full of hurt and she had a feeling that he couldn’t put what he wanted into words. 

 

He stood up. “Not this one.”

 

She followed him. It seemed like hours. She glanced at her watch. It had _been_ hours. “Brian.”

 

He nodded and handed his credit card to a sales rep. “This one’ll work.”

 

“They’d all work.”

 

“No red.”

 

“Right.” 

 

They arranged for delivery the next day. And Brian lit a cigarette the moment they were in the car. 

 

“So you painted the bedroom. You had the floors refinished. You bought a new bed. Is everything better now?”

 

He looked over towards her and Lindsay almost shrank back from the anger and pain in his expression but it was fleeting. A moment later he was giving her that bland smirk he’d practiced in college. “Yeah, it’s all better. Aaron’s probably having a miraculous recovery as we speak. Justin will probably just yell at me for painting the bedroom and not letting him pick the fucking color.”

 

“He won’t yell.”

 

“No, he won’t.”

 

“He might have wanted to choose the new bed.”

 

“He can’t think beyond the next couple of minutes right now.”

 

“You could distract him. You’ve always been able to.”

 

“Not about this. Never really about this.”

 

“He’s grown up Brian. It’s been…”

 

“I know how long it’s been. We just…” Brian pulled the car to a stop in front of her apartment. “Thanks Lindz.”

 

“Come up, have a drink.”

 

“Can’t. I’ve been gone all day. Have a few phone calls to make. Have to go see Aaron.”

 

“And Justin.”

 

“And Justin.”

 

“Brian are the two of you?”  
  


“We’re fine.”

 

“Are you…?”

 

“Let it go.”

 

Lindsay kissed him on the cheek. “It’s a beautiful bed.” And disappeared into the lobby of her building. Brian crossed the bridge and turned up the volume on the radio. Thinking was not on his list of things to do.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian’s POV

 

Thinking is _not_ on my list of things to do. I got through most of the list. Well, except for the Alicia thing. Let Aaron handle his own mother. I can’t. Not right now. I can’t even handle buying a bed. Shopping usually helps. Lindsay usually helps. Nothing’s helping right now.

 

Aaron’s hurt. Not… not raped. That’s good. That’s…fuck! Yeah, okay, that’s good but he’s hurt, he’s upset and Justin’s not speaking, or for all I know right now he’s punching the walls again… or maybe finding a local gun shop, stocking up. No clue.

 

We don’t talk about this. We talk about the brain damage, but we don’t really talk about what caused it. We don’t talk about this.

 

We’ve never really talked about this. He took the bloody scarf off my neck, he threw it to the floor and that was the end of it for a long time. Fucked him all better. He really thinks I did. He’s nowhere near all-better. He’s nowhere near okay.

 

Red. Yeah, I can get rid of the red. The guy did a hell of a job on the floor. Looks good as new. You’d never know Aaron almost bled out right there in front of the door. You’d never know that when that knife cut Aaron, it opened up old wounds blocks away.

 

I have to do this. The option…there is no option. Lack of options makes me itch. But really, I’m out of options here. Can’t leave. Can’t fix this. Aaron's staying with us though. Fuck Lee. Yeah, maybe he thinks he can help with this. He can’t. I can’t. I think Justin can. Justin did this. Justin did this on his own. No help from me there.

 

I can’t fix this. I can’t fix any of it. Locking them both in the condo and making sure they never leave… only problem with that is they’d kill each other, or combine forces and kill me. 

 

I can’t go to the hospital yet. I can’t watch Aaron hurt and Justin hurt. I know I need to but I’m just gonna change my clothes first. Just something a little less… something a little more…

 

Fuck it, I’m changing my clothes and then I will go back to that fucking hospital room. I’ll deal with all of this.

 

Except Justin’s here. Justin’s home. He’s asleep on the sofa. What the hell is he doing home?

 

He’s staring at me. Not asleep. Not even groggy. He wasn’t sleeping. Good. He’s not sleeping. He’s not eating. I’m glad. I can fix that. I can dope him to the gills and feed him 'til he can’t eat another bite. I can fix that. Aaron’s face. Maybe someone can fix that. The plastic surgeon will be there later this afternoon. He can fix that. 

 

What the fuck? Justin’s kissing me. He’s voluntarily touching me. That’s good. He’s pushing me down on the sofa and falling on top of me and that’s even better. Hands sliding under his shirt. His skin, he’s pulling at my shirt. Skin. Yeah, skin on skin, that’s good. Touch, that’s good. Him, he’s good. This, this is good.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

I needed to get out of there. Matt kept insisting I needed sleep. I didn’t. I don’t. I need to bleach the vision of Aaron bleeding. I need to get it out of my head. Can’t do that. 'Til I can, not sleeping. Yeah, crashed for a couple hours with Brian. Had some dreams. _Those_ dreams. The dreams I’d thought I’d gotten past. Guess I thought I got past a lot of stuff. Guess I was wrong.

 

Then I come home and there’s a fucking sign on the floor. But the stain is gone. Brian left. I figured he couldn’t handle the hospital bullshit again. I thought maybe he was out, at the baths, somewhere, forgetting. He was home, having the floor refinished. And as I went to try to lay down I noticed something. He’d hung a blanket over the base of the bed… and had the room painted. No more RED. He came home, and made it go away. Well, he tried to make it go away. 

 

Wonder if he knows anyone who can surgically remove this from my brain. Even if he did, he wouldn’t tell me. Hates talking about my brain being fucked with. Hates this. Can’t blame him. I hate it too. Hate myself sometimes for still hanging on to it. This isn’t that, that isn’t this. There’s no reason that this has thrown me but it has.

 

He’s home and Lindsay called while he was gone. Heard her message. Apparently he bought a new bed. Not red. Not red. That’s pretty much the theme for him today. He’s so fucked up. He thinks getting rid of the red will make it better.

 

I’m so fucked up…it does. And now he’s home. He looks tired. He looks broken. He looks like he did when I woke up after Gus’s birthday party. Scared, guilty, not sure of what to do next.

 

He knew what to do next. He fucked me better. 

 

He still swears it wasn’t him. Either time. Then or after surgery. It was. I’m not insane. I know that there was physical therapy and bullshit but he made me feel whole again. He made me feel like I wasn’t alone, like I wasn’t some alien, and like I wasn’t deformed. He made me feel… loved.

 

I need that now. I want him to make it better. He sucks at words sometimes. He sucks at romance. He’s too eager to throw money at something and call it fixed. This. This he can do. So I’m on him. I’m kissing him. I’m pushing him back against the sofa, and I swear I almost cry when his body responds.

 

He’s so fucked up. I was afraid he might not be ready. Might really not want me. Not forever, but right now. But he does. I can feel it in his kiss, I can feel it in the way his hands are caressing my back and I can feel it against my thigh. He wants me. And that’s all I need right now, to be loved. 

 

He’s moving back up the sofa and I’m straddling him. His hands are working the buttons on my jeans and I’m franticly pushing against his hands and using my own to lower his jeans too. Sometimes, we’re beautiful and graceful, and I think we’d make a million dollars if we ever went into the porn business. Sometimes, we’re awkward and frantic and that’s when it’s really hot, and no one sees that but us…and maybe a couple hundred thousand men in backrooms across the country…wait, Mexico, across the continent, oh wait, Amsterdam, and Paris, London… world. People across the world have seen us fuck. Well, so much for our millions, everyone’s already seen it.

 

Not this though. Not when he pulls me forward and kisses me slowly not when he slides out from under me and is on top of me this time, covering my entire body with his. His legs are so long they’re dangling off the edge of the sofa but he bends his knees and I wrap my legs around his waist and he’s pushing inside me and I’m looking into his eyes and then I can’t.

 

I’m gonna cry, so I look away. I can’t close my eyes. The whole purpose of this is to give me something else to focus on. Close my eyes and I’m just gonna see the blood.

 

His fingers are soft against my jaw but he’s turning my head. He’s keeping the eye contact and he kisses me. Kisses my eyes. I have to close them when he does that… and there’s no blood. He’s fucking me, I’m gasping and he’s laying this tiny sweet kisses on my eyelids and he’s fucking me better.

 

He’ll deny it. I know he will but the blood’s gone. I can… I can… oh god I’m gonna come. And I do. I come hard and he’s right there with me, and I think I’m about to pass out, but I haven’t been able to close my eyes, and now I can so passing out is safe.

 

Have I mentioned I love this man? I do. I whisper it in his ear while he strokes the hair off my forehead and keeps kissing my face, letting me float, letting me keep my eyes closed and still feel safe. He’s inside me and my legs are still around his waist. I’m not ready for him to leave me. If he’s here, like that… I’m safe. If I’m safe, I can sleep a little. 


	4. Chapter 4

  


  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter 4   


* * *

  


 

Brian and Justin sat outside Aaron’s room. The officer had come by over an hour ago. They weren’t sure how long it would take for Aaron to give his statement but neither wanted him to be alone when he was finished. Justin had asked to stay. He hadn’t been allowed to. He wanted to know what happened. He wanted to make sure Aaron was okay while he had to retell it. 

 

Alicia came back and sat across from them. She’d been pacing aimlessly up and down the halls all day. She’d stop in, see Aaron, start to cry and leave. Once she’d pulled herself together she’d come back and repeat the process. Justin knew he had to get her back to Pittsburgh. Having people cry over you was never conducive to healing. Aaron needed to heal.

 

The doctors had said they’d let him go home in few days. Justin looked over at Brian and wondered if he wanted Aaron to stay with Lee. Having the half-breed in the apartment, having nurses and physical therapists traipsing in and out was not his style. 

 

“Do you think Aaron should stay with Lee?”

 

“He’s staying with us.”

 

Justin nodded. Brian hadn’t turned his head, hadn’t changed expression, hadn’t seemed at all unsure. Brian’s hand reached out for his knee and Justin stood up quickly. “I want a soda. You want anything?”  
  


Brian shook his head and Justin walked down the hall to the vending machine. He flashed on a long forgotten memory and shut his eyes tight. He made a right at the end of the hall and when he was sure he was out of Brian’s line of vision he rested his forehead against the wall, huddling into the little corner where the vending machine met the rough painted concrete. He tried to breathe. His breaths were coming in short sharp gasps.

 

He tried to remember what they’d taught him. Deep breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Fake the calm your body doesn’t feel. His hands were shaking. Brian in a white shirt, running down a hallway. He’d only been able to see his back. He didn’t even fucking know the man yet, or Michael. They were running, jubilant, all of them for different reasons.

 

Justin tried to breath again. A sharp pain made him aware that he wasn’t taking in enough air. He sank to the floor pulling his knees closer. He’d come, in another man’s bed for the first time. A man who was going to take him back to that bed again, right after they saw his new son. 

 

Bizarre. No one ever believed the story of their first encounter. It wasn’t one he repeated all that often anyway. That story was just for him. The parts he remembered. The parts that meant something. The parts he saw. 

 

Justin’s head was swimming. He tried to focus on his breathing. He felt his face turn red and he knew he needed to get this under control. He closed his mouth, realizing he’d been gasping for air. He tried to inhale deeply through is nose. He concentrated on the feel of the linoleum tile against his hands. The rough texture of the wall against his back. He took another deep breath and felt his body receive the oxygen. He did it again. 

 

It was several minutes before he was sure he could stand up. He still felt nauseated and a little wobbly but he was breathing normally now. He walked back towards the chairs outside Aaron's room.

 

Brian looked up at him. “No soda?”

 

Justin shrugged. “Didn’t have the kind I wanted.”

 

Justin sat down and pressed his hands against his thighs, willing them to stop shaking. Brian reached for him again but Aaron’s door opened and the officer came out. He nodded at them both and they filed in to see how Aaron was doing.

 

Justin looked at him. He was pale. He’d obviously been crying. He looked small against the white sheets. Even in his own shirt and hospital scrubs. His jeans didn’t fit over the brace on his hip. He looked… bad.

 

“What’d the police say?”

 

“That they’ll file the report and send over someone to put together a composite sketch.”

 

“I can do that for you.”

 

“They have to use their own guys I think.”

 

Justin nodded. “They have any idea who did it?”

 

Aaron shook his head. “I didn’t have anything helpful to tell them. I don’t remember what he looked like. I don’t remember what kind of car it was. I don’t even know if it was his car, or just a car that he was standing near. It was blue I think. That doesn’t really narrow it down too much.”

 

Brian was on the opposite side of the bed from Justin. “They’re sending you home soon.”

 

“Yeah. You better have ice cream in the place. I don’t care if you’re afraid you’ll get fat. I want some fucking ice cream.”

 

“With the Swedish fish?”

 

“Yeah, and chunky monkey.”

 

Brian grimaced but nodded and Aaron gave a half smile. “How long do I get whatever I want?”

 

“You used up your one good demand on ice cream.”

 

Aaron pretended to pout and Brian pretended he wasn’t going to cater to his every need for a while. Alicia walked in to find the two of them laughing and Justin staring at them both as if they’d started to speak a foreign language.

 

Justin saw Alicia's expression and pulled her out into the hall. “Alicia, we’ll take care of him but the crying thing doesn’t help. Trust me, I know.”

 

Alicia nodded and they both turned their heads in surprise when they heard a loud burst of laughter from Aaron. Brian seemed to be recounting an amusing tale. Justin turned away from the sound.

 

“Go home. I’ll make sure he calls you. We’ll make sure he’s okay. And in a couple of weeks, you can come back and you’ll see how much better he’s doing.”

 

She nodded. “I should probably go back to work. I’m not sure what the bill is going to look like but…”

 

Justin shook his head. “You know we’ll help with that too.”

 

She nodded. “I’ll let you know if I need any help.”

 

Alicia went in to see Aaron and Justin went to the nurses’ station to find out how to make sure all the bills were sent to them and not Aaron’s mother. 

 

He came back to the room twenty minutes later to see Alicia kissing Aaron goodbye. She kissed Justin too and he flinched away. Aaron smiled at him. “Thanks.”

 

“She wouldn’t stop crying.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“This way she’ll come back and see you healed.”

 

“Yeah. Plastic Surgeon said that in three weeks he could go in and fix the thing on my face. Said I won’t look scary.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Said I was lucky not to have any nerves cut.”

 

Justin sat down heavily in the chair by Aaron’s bed. “That’s good too.”

 

“Said he could do my nose and give me cheek implants and a chin button.”

 

“Good.”

 

“Then I’m gonna dye my hair purple and run around naked.”

 

“Huh?”  
  


“Just seeing if you were listening.”

 

Brian huffed out a laugh and sat on the other side of the bed. 

 

“So what the fuck is up with you and Lee?” Aaron turned his attention back to Justin.

 

“What? Nothing. He…”

 

“This isn’t his fault.”

 

“Never said it was.”

 

“I don’t want to stay with him anyway. Not when I’m all…”

 

“Broken?”  
  


“I was gonna say incapacitated. Where’s the fun in that?”  
  


“Right. Well, when you’re capacitated, then you can stay wherever you want.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“But I’m willing to bet you and I have different definitions of capacitated.”

 

“You and I have different definitions of everything.”

 

“We’ll go to a neutral party. Brian can decide when you’re capacitated.”

 

Aaron screwed up his face and stared at Justin. “How exactly is Brian a neutral party?”

 

“I won’t let Justin kick you out just because you’re driving him insane.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And you’re not leaving just because you think you’re better.”

 

Aaron pouted again. “You’re gonna keep me prisoner?”

 

Brian didn’t respond. Justin wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if it would piss off either of them so he kept it to himself. “Do you want us to bring you something for dinner?”

 

“No.”

  
”You develop a taste for hospital food?”

 

Aaron shook his head. “I’m tired. I’m gonna sleep. You two still look like shit. Go home. Sleep, fuck, whatever, just stop staring at me like I’ve grown another head.”

 

“We can stick around a little longer.” A jolt of fear ran through him at the thought of leaving the hospital. It made no sense. It was the same jolt of fear that he had fought back when they’d first left for the hospital a few hours ago. He took another deep breath. “You’ll get bored.”

 

“I’m seriously going to sleep. I’m tired, and I hurt. The nurse is coming to dope me to the gills. Go home.”

 

Justin nodded and Brian leaned over and ran a hand gently through Aaron’s hair. “Don’t piss off the nurses. Play nice. ”

 

Justin walked out and he felt Brian behind him. Brian hailed a cab and they both got in. 

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey.”

 

They rode in silence the rest of the way home.

 

Brian called and ordered food. Justin stared at the television, flipping channels and not stopping long enough to even be considering watching anything. 

 

Brian poured himself a drink.

 

“Want a beer?”

 

Justin shook his head. He lit a cigarette and knew Brian had done the same. He waited for him to approach. His body tense, expectant, anxious. Brian never did. Not 'til after the food was delivered. 

 

He brought Justin a Styrofoam container, a fork and a bottle of water. Then he sat next to him with his own.

 

Justin automatically flipped up the top and started to push the food around. “Muscles.”

 

“You like them from this place.”

 

“Yeah” he kept pushing the food around, not sure if he could handle actually putting it in his mouth. Chewing, swallowing.

 

“You want something else?”

 

“No, not really hungry.”

 

“You want something easier? You gotta eat.”

 

Justin took a forkful to his mouth and chewed slowly. It was good. “Yeah. I guess I do.”

 

“You’re having panic attacks again.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“I can breathe through them.”

 

He saw Brian nod out of the corner of his eye. 

 

“I’ll be fine.”

 

“Never doubted it.”

 

“We have to get the guy in tomorrow to install the rails on the tub.”

 

“He’s already scheduled.”

 

“Good. Aaron’s been hurt enough.”

 

Brian reached out and ran a hand softly through Justin’s hair. Justin froze. “So have you.”

 

“This isn’t about me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“ _Aaron_ got hurt. I’m fine.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You’ll let me know when you believe me?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“You’re gonna be pretty fucked up over this.”

 

Brian shook his head. “Didn’t happen to me either.”

 

“Yes it did. Twice.”

 

“Not the same thing.”

 

“Are we sure?”

 

Brian sighed loudly and leaned back, pulling a joint from the canister on the coffee table. He lit it and took a long inhale before passing it to Justin. “No. We’re not sure of anything.”

 

Justin exhaled a long stream of smoke and passed the joint back to Brian. “You. I’m pretty sure of you.” He saw Brian shake his head. “You got rid of the red and fixed the floor. Thank you.”

 

“No need to…”

 

“Shut up. Thank you. I’m gonna start functioning again. You won’t have to do this alone.”

 

Brian nodded and Justin was glad they weren’t pretending. He had NOT been functioning. He needed to pull himself together. This had _not_ happened to him. “We’ll do this together. We’ll take care of Aaron.”

 

Brian nodded and passed the joint back to Justin. “Who’s gonna take care of us?”

 

“We are. We always have.”

 

Brian stubbed out the roach and leaned over to kiss Justin. Justin closed the takeout container. “I’ve gotta put this away. You done?”

 

He took both containers to the fridge and called over his shoulder. “I’m gonna take a shower. You should get some sleep.”

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~

 

Brian flipped through the channels but couldn’t focus any more than Justin could. He poured himself another drink, lit another joint and slowly let his brain grow a little fuzzy. 

 

Eventually he went to bed. Justin wasn’t there. The water wasn’t running. He had to be out done showering by now. Brian ducked his head into the bathroom. Empty. He heard the music coming from the studio. Okay. That made sense.

 

He tried to fall asleep. He was exhausted but his mind wouldn’t stop. Images started to morph together. Somehow he remembered Aaron showing up at the door in a tuxedo. He knew that wasn’t right. He remembered a cut on Justin’s face. He knew that wasn’t right either.

 

He tried to focus on what had happened to Aaron. What he’d learned in the past few days, and what he’d seen. He needed to keep the images clear and separate. He could not, would not, let these things get too clouded in his mind. He’d have enough shit to deal with helping Aaron and Justin. He couldn’t stumble.

 

He was ticking off the hours since Aaron’s arrival at their door. He tried to piece together what Aaron had told him, what he’d overheard when he was retelling the police officer, what he knew. When he thought he had it all ordered properly he let his eyes fall closed.

 

He woke up a few hours later to the feel of Justin climbing into bed. He reached for him automatically, pulling him closer. He felt the soft warm body stiffen at his side and stroked his back gently. 

 

He felt Justin wriggle out of his grasp and then he was done sleeping. He left Justin in bed, sprawled on his stomach and went to the kitchen to make himself some coffee.

 

He was more tired than he thought. He woke up on the sofa several hours later. The coffee cold in the pot. 

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

The next few days went by in a similar fashion. Justin left early each morning to go see Aaron. Brian went with him but they hardly spoke. The guy did come to finish the floors. The other guy came and put rails in the tub for Aaron. 

 

The police came back twice to question Aaron. He didn’t have anything to add. He couldn’t remember much. All they knew was that there were three of them. Large men, as Aaron recalled. One with a mustache. They’d literally kicked him while he was down. Then the man had cut him. His face, his neck. He’d stumbled away and made it to the door before he’d lost consciousness. 

 

Brian wanted to track down his friends at the dorms and see if they knew anything more but he knew the police had already questioned them. Instead he just went to the office every day, convincing himself that once Aaron came home, things would get better. He was trying to give it time.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Six days after the attack Aaron faced the door to their apartment again. He swallowed audibly but swung his leg and then the crutches and crossed over the threshold. He seemed to visibly relax and Justin exhaled.

 

“Your stuff is in Gus’s room. He’s starting school next week. Not a lot of time for sleepovers. I think you’ll be okay.”

 

Aaron nodded and headed in the direction of the guest room. Brian grabbed the pint of ice cream and a spoon and followed him. Justin followed Brian. They both watched him sit carefully on the bed.

 

“I unlocked child codes on the TV.” 

 

Aaron looked up and smiled a little. “Good. Sucks to have the good porn channels and not be able to watch them.”

 

Brian pushed the ice cream and spoon into Aaron’s hands. 

 

He took them and fiddled with the lid. “I’m really sorry.”

 

“About what?” Justin looked confused.

 

“This.” Aaron gestured to his leg, which was in a complicated brace. To the room in general. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with me.”

 

“We’re not. We can kick you out anytime. And it’s not your fault.”

 

Aaron shifted his gaze to Brian. “I know you don’t believe that. I kinda wish you’d be honest with me.”

 

“Brian doesn’t lie.” Justin said.

 

“But he does, well, I mean, this _is_ my fault. I was the one who wasn’t careful. You guys kept warning me.”

 

“Not about this.”

 

“Yeah, about this.”

 

“You couldn’t have known. This isn’t… just stop blaming yourself.” Justin was arranging all of Aaron’s medicine bottles next to his bed. He swung open the door to the small fridge.” We brought it from your dorm, figured you’d have trouble moving a lot at first.

 

Aaron smiled gratefully. “Thanks.”

 

Justin moved to leave the room. 

 

“I really am sorry.”

 

He looked over his shoulder at his brother. “Sorry’s bullshit.”

 

Aaron gave him a confused look but settled back onto the bed, swinging his leg up and moving a pillow behind his back until most of his weight was off of his hip.

 

Brian was standing at the foot of the bed. 

 

“What?”

 

“You really think this is your fault?”

 

Aaron took a long swallow from the bottle of water Justin had left and then opened the ice cream. “I know it is.”

 

Brian shook his head. 

 

“Don’t Brian, you know it’s not random.”

 

“It is. There’s no way this is your fault.”

 

“Then whose?”

 

“Maybe no one’s.”

 

“Maybe yours.”

 

“Mine?”  
  


“You like to take responsibility for shit like this. I didn’t even invite you to come with me. “

 

“Right. So not your fault and not mine.”

 

Aaron took a large spoonful of ice cream into his mouth and nodded. Justin was leaning on the doorframe watching the interaction.

 

“Now that we’re done with the blame game, can we just let this go?”

 

They both nodded and Justin called and ordered a pizza and a couple of Caesar salads.

 

They ate in front of the TV in Aaron’s room until he took a couple of pills and ordered them out.

 

They were sitting in the living room Brian reached out to stroke Justin’s hair but pulled back before he got within reach. He was learning not to touch him so often. It was an old habit and it died hard.

 

“It’s okay. You can touch me.”

 

Brian moved his hand slowly, caressing the nape of Justin's neck and letting the soft strands of hair run through his fingers. He never stopped watching Justin’s face. He pulled his hand back. “When you’re ready.”

 

“I’m ready.”  
  


“Then why are you flinching?”

 

“I’m not.”

 

Brian deliberately moved his hand over Justin’s. “Yes you are.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But…”

 

“You can’t help it.”

 

“I don’t know why. I’ll get over it.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I think Aaron really thinks he did something wrong.”

 

“He did.”

 

Justin turned his head to glare at Brian. 

 

“Never mind. He didn’t.”

 

“This is that bullshit about hanging around you isn’t it? This is one of your woe is me, no one I love can be hurt without it being my fault things.”

 

“No.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“If you look at my track record.”

 

“It’s the same as everyone else’s. Some people you know go through bullshit and get hurt. That’s called life.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“You really want to make Michael right on this one?”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“See.”

 

“He does know me.”

 

“No he fucking doesn’t and this isn’t your fault and this isn’t my fault and neither was… any of it.”

 

“Neither was what?”

 

“Neither was Craig.” Justin finished somewhat lamely.

 

“Craig wasn’t your fault or Aaron’s.”

 

Brian put his hand on Justin’s neck and felt him tense for a moment and then he pulled him forward until his head was resting on his chest. “This place, we have to designate it a no fault zone. We’ll go nuts if we keep doing this.”

 

Justin nodded against Brian’s shirt. “We’re already nuts though.”

 

“So this will send us over the edge.”

 

“We’ve been there before.”

 

“Yeah. Not really a worth revisiting.”

 

“So we just let it go.”

 

“That’s the plan.” Brian’s hand moved slowly down Justin’s back. “It’s over.”

 

“I know.”

 

“But you’re having nightmares again.”

 

“Not really.”

 

“Now is a bad time to start lying again.”

 

“They’re not the same.”

 

“You think…” Brian sucked his lower lip into his mouth. Justin leaned back and looked up. 

 

“Think what?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

“Now’s a bad time to start keeping shit from me again.”

 

“Talk to someone.”

 

“Huh?”  
  


“Maybe you need to talk to someone.”

 

“Why? Because my brother got hurt? Aaron probably needs to talk to someone.”

 

“Is he having nightmares?”

 

“I don’t know. Guess we’ll find out.”

 

“He’s to drugged to wake up from them.”

 

“Yeah, those were good times.”

 

“No they weren’t.”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“So…”

 

Justin shook his head. “I just need to push through Brian. Talking doesn’t help.”

 

“You sure?”

 

“Yeah. This threw me but I’m getting better. I promise I won’t join another gang.”

 

Brian laughed. “Good. But… “

 

“No. Brian, I don’t need to talk to anyone, well, maybe you sometimes but not right now. I have to… I’m trying to… I just need to figure some shit out and get my head together.”

 

“Okay. But you’re not talking to me.”

 

“Um, we’re talking now.”

 

“Not what I meant.”

 

“I know but… I’m just… I… I don’t make any sense. I’m not planning on just blathering like an idiot to you. And we’re not paying some quack hundreds of dollars an hour so I can blather to him until I start to make sense.”

 

“You can blather if you want.”

 

“You hate when I do that.”

 

“I don’t know. You haven’t done it in a while.”

 

“Brian?”

 

“Hmmm?”  
  


“Can you do me a favor?”

 

“Probably.”

 

“Can you stop talking about talking, it’s freaking me out.”

 

Brian pulled Justin a little closer. He felt him resist and then felt the moment he gave in to the contact. He molded himself to Brian’s chest. He nibbled at Brian's neck and then was licking Brian's ear, breathing his request across his earlobe. “Fuck me.”

 

Brian stood up, pulling Justin with him to their new bed. 

 

He watched Justin’s eyes as he slowly took off his own shirt. His hands slid up Justin’s waist and pulled the t-shirt over his head. 

 

He wanted to suck on one of his nipples but he was afraid to lose eye contact. Afraid that if they lost that Justin would retreat again. That he’d touch him and feel the cold unyielding tenseness that he’d encountered so often. Or worse, he’d physically pull away. He focused instead on drawing Justin to him. Bringing out his need, his pleasure, his desire. 

 

Justin joked about him fucking him all better. He joked about Brian turning his brain off but there was truth in those jests. Justin could lose himself to passion in a way Brian envied at times and emulated at others and he wanted that now. He wanted Justin, needing, wanting, not thinking, not cringing, not flinching. Not acquiescing.

 

He stretched next to him. His arm bent and his hand holding up his head while his other hand slowly deliberately caressed every inch of Justin’s torso. Their eyes stayed locked. Brian watched the sharp almost fearful expression relax into one of appreciation and then bloom into desire. 

 

Only when he was sure that Justin was past the point of retreat did he break eye contact and move his hands and body lower. Unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them off, discarding quickly. He removed his own pants and stretched his body out over the lean lithe frame.

 

Yeah, he was 28 years old. His body was different. His shoulders broader. He worked out now, had more muscle tone, and still looked impossibly young. Still got carded at bars sometimes. Still had that youthful angelic thing going that made so many men perv. 

 

And when he was lost like this, and Brian wasn’t kidding himself. Justin was lost. He looked even younger. He looked scared lately. He was still having anxiety attacks and the nightmares were worse than he’d admit. 

 

Brian’s mouth locked onto Justin’s nipple and he felt him arch towards him. It was gratifying and a genuine relief. His fear, his nightmares, they’d get through them. They’d do this together in a way they hadn’t last time. And that’s another thing Brian wasn’t kidding himself about. There was a last time, and a this time and they were too fucking similar to pretend it hadn’t fucked them both up.

 

Justin’s body was pressing against his. He felt smooth thighs wrap around his legs and Justin’s heels dig into his calf muscles. His arms around his shoulders. His entire body wrapped in the warmth of Justin’s scent and feel and need.

 

He moved his head up and kissed him.

 

He felt that small moment of resistance before Justin gave in. He tried not to think about it. Justin was sucking on his tongue now and it wasn’t that hard to forget about the momentary hesitance, at least for the moment. The moment, that’s all that mattered. Justin’s body responding. His eyes closed. His breath shallow, not from fear. 

 

Brian pushed into him. Felt Justin open up to him. Let him in. Not just physically, he felt Justin’s body relax. His grip on his back, the tenseness in his thighs softened. Soft sighs against his neck as he thrust into him again and again. He felt him give in to it. Relax into it. Melt.

 

He felt Justin's body tense again, this time from pleasure. He pressed against him. Felt him come and let himself go. 

 

Brian rolled off of him and saw that Justin was asleep. He stroked his hair and watched him for a while. He finally fell into a shallow sleep, aware of Justin’s every move… watching and waiting for the nightmares he knew were coming. 

 

There was something else coming. He wasn’t sure what but he knew they were not past this. 


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter 5 

* * *

 

They were in the car heading back from Lindsay’s. Gus’s birthday had gone well… considering. He hadn’t started school yet and really didn’t have any friends in the area. Justin had been a little too quiet. Brian had been a little too solicitous, which just made Justin more reserved. Lindsay had teared up a couple more times than had been absolutely necessary, or called for. Aaron hadn’t joined them. He wasn’t a big fan of kids birthday parties or trying to get around on crutches.

 

They didn’t say much to each other. Justin stared out the window the entire drive. When they got back they were greeted by a slightly drunk Aaron. He was sitting on the sofa next to Lee. A few other boys, kids they didn’t know were playing a video game. The coffee table was littered with beer bottles and pizza boxes. 

 

Justin looked like he was about to say something but a loud roar from the television seemed to startle him. He shook his head and disappeared into his office. Brian walked over to the group in the living room. He caught Aaron’s eye as the kid finished off a beer. From his slightly glazed stare and his goofy smile Brian was guessing this was not his first or fifth beer of the day. 

 

“With prescription pain killers. Smart.”

 

“Fuck you. I’m just trying to relax.”

 

Brian nodded and watched as Lee pulled him closer. He pushed back any thoughts of how much Justin didn’t settle into his arms like that anymore and went to change his clothes.

 

A few hours later, after pretending to work on a new pitch he knocked quietly on the office door. He pushed it open a little and Justin looked up from his computer screen.

 

“The whole point of knocking is to be allowed entrance.”

 

“If I waited I’d miss watching you jerk off.”

 

“I’m not jerking off. I’m doing the books.”

 

“What books?”

 

“Our books.”

 

Brian stood behind Justin squinting a little at the screen. Justin minimized it quickly. 

 

“Ted does our books.”

 

“My books.”

 

“I thought Martin did your books.”

 

Justin shrugged. “I don’t trust anyone with my money.”

 

“Smart.”

 

“Gus liked his present.”

 

“Yeah, I think he did.” Brian moved around the desk to sit on the chair on the opposite side. He propped his bare feet up on the edge. “Why are you hiding in here?”

 

“I’m not hiding. I had to balance my check book.”

 

“On a Saturday afternoon.”

 

“Did we become Jewish and you didn’t tell me?”

 

Brian shook his head. “Do whatever you want.”

 

“I always do.”

 

“No shit.”

 

“Aaron’s getting better.”

 

“I guess. He and Lee seem tight.”

 

“They are. Lee’s here most nights.”

 

“I know.”

 

“We should probably let Lee take him.”

 

“No.”

 

“He’s…”

 

“He’s still not healed.”

 

“Yeah.” Justin turned his attention back to the screen. Brian picked up one of the stress balls littering Justin’s desk and studiously looked anywhere but at him.

 

“Neither are you.”

 

“I’m fine.”

 

“The dark circles under your eyes prove it.”

 

“Sleep is over rated.”

 

“So is doing this by yourself.”

 

Justin ducked his head and concentrated on entering information onto the spreadsheet. Brian didn’t back away from the topic.

 

“You said you’d talk to me.”

 

“I said I’d talk to you when I made sense. I still don’t. And you said you’d stop talking about talking.”

 

“What should I talk about?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Brian stood up and arched his back, stretching languidly. “Come out and play with your brother.”

 

“When I’m done.”

 

Brian picked up the check register Justin was looking at. “December. You’re going to do nine months of checkbook balancing.”

 

“It has to be done.”

 

Brian went to the filing cabinet. 

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He flipped through the carefully labeled folders and pulled one. He left it lying on Justin’s desk as he left the office. Justin looked down at it and shook his head. It sucked to have someone know you that well. It was the copies of all of his personal banking statements, each balanced by Martin and checked by him. Fuck.

 

He closed the spreadsheet and drummed his fingers against the desk, chin in his hand. Finally he stood up and joined the group. He stayed in the corner. He didn’t really talk to anyone. Eventually Aaron’s friends went home and even Lee claimed he had somewhere to be. The two shared a long kiss before Lee saw himself to the door. Brian set the alarm behind him.

 

Brian opened his mouth to say something but Aaron cut him off. “Don’t. A couple of beers are no big deal. It’s not like I have anywhere to be… ever.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna say a word.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“I wasn’t. I was just going to tell you to get your idiot friends to clean up before they leave next time. It’s not like you can do it.”

 

Aaron crossed his arms over his chest and tried to glare. It wasn’t very convincing. Justin got up and started to get rid of the pizza boxes and beer bottles. 

 

Brian gave him a hand and the place was back to a semblance of order in no time. Justin scanned the room to make sure it passed muster and then turned on his heel. He shut the studio door.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Justin’s POV

 

Fuck. Breathe. I hate this. I really do. Stupid fucking panic attacks over nothing. And Brian sees them. I know he does. I’m not hiding them I’m just… I can’t stand it when he tries to help with this. No one’s help actually helps. That’s the problem. He wants to hold my hand, rub my back, run his fingers through my hair, stroke my thigh. All good things…unless the feel of another person’s touch makes me more jittery. I don’t know what that’s about. I have to figure out what that’s about. I really do. 

 

Okay. I’m touching myself. My hand on my arm. My fingers over my face. It’s okay. I can stand that. I can stand that because I can control it. Because my fingers never idly map the scar on my head. My fingers never become insistent or demanding. I know I’m being cruel. 

 

Yeah we still fuck but… there’s something missing. Me. I’m missing. I can’t be there. I can’t tell him that. But I can’t be there so I close my mind and I let it be automatic. I don’t think he knows that. I don’t think he’s figured it out, but he will. It’s different with Brian…duh. But I can make it the same. I can pretend it’s just a trick, just getting off, nothing to do with love or complications. I can do that. It’s not fun. It’s not my favorite way to fuck, but he’ll think something’s really wrong if I can’t let him fuck me.

 

And nothing’s really wrong. A few things are a bit… off. We’re not completely in sync. He’s blaming himself for Aaron’s attack. He’s back to blaming himself for Chris Hobbes. He’s back to working tirelessly to make sure that everyone is okay and safe and… whatever it is he thinks he can do to make the world a good place for everyone else.

 

Nightmares. Yeah I have them. How does he know? I’ll tell you this, it’s not because I wake him up. It’s because he’s not sleeping. Well, unless he’s got a couple of Ativan and a half a bottle of Beam in him. Then he might sleep…for a few hours. 

 

That man has the highest drug tolerance of anyone I’ve ever met, but then again, duh.

 

So he’s not sleeping. I’m barely sleeping. We’re both walking around like zombies. Aaron watches baseball. Brian makes him watch it in his room.

 

Um, okay, I was hit with a bat, but not at baseball practice. Not by a guy in a baseball uniform. Not in a stadium. I’m okay with baseball on TV. So is Brian protecting me or himself? He heard the bat hit me. I didn’t.

 

Aaron’s not okay either by the way. Brian sees that too. Aaron’s… he’s in pain. I’m not sure how much emotional pain. But by the way he goes through pills, I’d say the physical pain is pretty intense. Unless he’s taking a page from Brian’s handbook and using the pills to control the emotional bullshit. Fuck. He probably is. 

 

It’s all so fucked and I want Brian. I do. I want him the way we used to be… um… when we were happy. Yeah, um…don’t ask me when that was, but there must have been a couple weeks in there somewhere, right?

 

I miss us. The closeness. The connection. Now it’s all about him watching me crumble and me watching him fade. This can’t be right. We’re gonna have to fix this but I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to fix it once I made sense. I’m not making sense.

 

I still dream about blood. Pools of it, showers of it, floods of it. It’s gross. And I wake up sweaty and breathing hard and he strokes my back and I want desperately to shrug him off. If I do that he’ll leave. Not me. He’s really past that whole leaving me thing. He’ll just go sleep on the sofa. He thinks he’s being supportive. He thinks he’s being nice. He thinks that’s what I want, to be left alone.

 

I don’t but what I want isn’t clear right now. I want him near me but… but not touching me too much. I want him to stand guard… but also to sleep and not treat me like a broken faggot.

 

See, what I want doesn’t work. It doesn’t make sense. Last time…I couldn’t stop clinging to him on the street. I won’t let that happen again. So when I feel the urge to cling. When I’m on the street and someone brushes my shoulder and I want to cry. I grit my teeth and I make sure I get where I need to go. No one is stopping me. 

 

But if he’s there…it means I have to withdraw from him. Means I have to refuse his touch. And that kills him. If I let myself need him too much it’ll kill me.

 

I’m not sure either one of us are getting out of this alive.

 

I’m not really sure of anything. I’m just gonna paint. Just gonna be in a space he won’t invade. In a space where not making sense makes sense. It’s all I can do right now. But I have got to start making sense. I need to talk to him. I can’t do that 'til I make sense.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Aaron’s POV

 

I make my way slowly to my room. This so fucking sucks. Brian’s mad. Justin’s mad. I shouldn’t have let the guys come over. I just… I needed to be with people. Getting out is a pain in the ass. Not just because I move slowly, my hip hurts and I’m on fucking crutches. I could deal with all that. It’s the third degree.

 

They act like I’m twelve. “Where are you going? Who’s gonna be there? Are you meeting them? Why can’t they pick you up? What are you gonna do? When are you gonna be back? Call if you’re gonna be late.” 

 

What the fuck? When did they become so… okay, they’ve always been parental but they were letting up. They really were, then I blew it. And god forbid they’re not in the same room when I’m leaving. Justin will sit on my bed and grill me with the questions. Then Brian will see me leaving and ask the same fucking ones. And “I already told Justin all of this.” Is NOT a good enough answer. He just stares at me and waits for the right answers. 

 

I wonder sometimes what would happen if I just ignored them. If I just got dressed and left, leaving them mid grill. But I have this really bad feeling that they’d follow me. And let me tell you something. Going out with them can be fun. Not when they’re this mad at me. They’ll both just glare. It’s not like I’m going clubbing…hello, crutches…can’t dance, and backrooms are out of the question. Not that kinky thanks.

 

So it’s usually to Lee’s or maybe Matt and Becca’s or possibly to Steve’s. Steve has his own place off campus. I don’t tell them that I might be going to Professor Julian’s. Not sure how they’d take the fact that I’m hanging out with one of my professors. No, they have no right to say a word about age differences. Wouldn’t stop them from doing it. More importantly, they wouldn’t understand. I’m not fucking professor Julian. I don’t want to. I don’t think he wants to fuck me either. He’s nice though. He sent me a card in the hospital. He calls. We talk. He’s been through this. He got attacked a couple of years ago, in the library, back in the stacks. He kind of understands.

 

He keeps telling me that attacks like these are common, and random, and not the victim’s fault. I keep trying to believe that but there is no fucking way this isn’t my fault. If I had ignored the guy, I’d be pissed off at how long the paper Dr. Julian assigned is. I wouldn’t be thinking about calling him right now because I’d kind of like to hear again how maybe I’m not entirely to blame.

 

The police haven’t called in a week. No leads. They’re not gonna find any. There’s not gonna be any closure on this. It’s just me, and healing. I’m trying to find a way to deal. Justin has his art. Brian has work. They have each other.

 

I guess I have Lee. I mean I know I have him but… he’s not what I want. Well, he is but not when he’s being this nice. He’s too nice. I’m not gonna break. Fucking touch me. It’s like he’s afraid to sometimes. It’s weird.

 

Brian won’t touch Justin anymore, at least not in front of me. I guess they figure if I’m all broken it’s mean to be horny and all over each other. So they kind of stay at arms length.

 

It’s weird. Really kind of, bizarre and weird. Usually, when they’re in the same room together, it’s like… magnetic. They’re sort of attached. I’ve seen them hold completely separate conversations with other people; the whole time, Justin’s leaning against Brian, or Brian’s hand is on Justin’s neck or thigh. And it’s like they don’t even notice. Except you kind of know that they do.

 

Fuck. I can’t sleep. I know I’m supposed to take a nap. Great, I’m back to being four years old. But the physical therapist says that healing saps strength and the body needs to sleep. So I’m supposed to take a nap if I can. 

 

I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes there’s someone staring at me. It’s that guy. The mustache, bad breath, crooked tooth guy. And he’s laughing and calling me names and his tooth glints like his knife did. I don’t remember his tooth being silver. When I close my eyes it is. It’s silver like his knife blade. And when I sleep…he bites me. He bites my neck. He bites my arms. He takes huge chunks of flesh and the blood drips off his mustache and then he’s going for my head. His jaw opens in a way that can only happen in a dream. It looks realistic but there’s no way any human can open a mouth that wide. But he does because he wants to taste me. That’s what he says. He wants to eat my brain.

 

No. It makes no sense. It’s a fucking dream. But the meds make the dreams stop. So I take the meds and I start to feel groggy and like maybe a couple of hours of sleep. Dreamless, healing, rehabilitative sleep is just what I need. So I close my eyes and hope he doesn’t eat my brain or bite my neck again. The scar on my neck always feels worse, bumpier or something after that dream. 

 

I keep touching it and every time I do Justin frowns. I have to stop touching it. I have to sleep now.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian’s POV

 

I’m going out. Justin and Aaron are in for the night and I’m not. I’m going out. A bar, a club, I really don’t care. I need to get laid. I’m going to the baths. I need to get laid and not be careful and gentle and tender and all that bullshit that has it’s place an time. But whatever happened to fucking?

 

I’ll tell you what happened. Justin can’t stand to be touched. He flinches. He gives in sometimes. And sometime I can get him to let his body take over and then he can feel desire. Not for me though. 

 

There’s a difference. He thinks I won’t notice? That, in and of itself, should tell me how fucked up he is. I won’t notice the difference between him fucking the way he does when we’ve got a trick in bed…when he closes his eyes and just lets it be about pleasure… and when we’re alone together.

 

I notice. And that’s what he’s doing. He’s fucking tricking with me. Great. That’ll get the communication thing working. Start treating me like a nameless stranger. 

 

So I need to get laid. I need to fuck a nameless stranger and not the man I love who wishes I were one.

 

Christ. He said he’d start talking when he made sense. He never makes sense. I can’t wait 'til the _next_ millennium. 

 

He’s still twitchy around people. Still walks down the street like he’s protecting himself from something. He used to reach for me when he felt like that. Now he moves as far away from me as possible.

 

He’s gonna have to see a professional. Hen’s not gonna want to. I don’t want him to. Ten thousand reasons why I don’t. Major one… our relationship is not healthy. Never said it was. Never said it will be. They go in and start deconstructing that… we’re both fucked. 

 

We work things out in our own way, but it’s not by the book… not by their book. By the book is boring, and it won’t work for us. I don’t need him questioning us MORE. 

 

I don’t need him questioning us at all.

 

I’m not even telling them I’m going. My cell phone’s on. They can call if they need me. They won’t. They won’t call. They both need me.

 

Aaron still thinks it’s his fault. He thinks we’re mad at him. He has no idea how much this rocked his brother’s world. He has no idea what Justin’s going through. I don’t either. I wish I did. Sometimes I think I have a clue. I don’t.

 

I hail a cab. The place is dark and dirty and it smells and it’s just what I need. Feel. Don’t think. Feel. I can do that. I can do this. I can…fuck; this guy’s not bad. Tight. Smooth. Good abs. Good pecks. I’m running my hands up his chest and fucking him and this is what I needed. No twinks. No drama. No bullshit. It’s very clear that I was once a very smart man. I don’t believe in love, I believe in fucking.

 

Problem is that love isn’t like the Easter Bunny, or God. It’s easy not to believe in the things you can’t see. I’ve seen love and fuck…I’ve got to stop thinking for a minute.

 

There’s another guy eyeing me and I give him a nod. Okay. Better. Harder to think with a tongue up my ass and my cock up someone else’s. This’ll work 'til I figure out what to do about…. About that shit I’m not thinking about.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Aaron and Justin were sitting on the sofa. Neither was really talking. They were playing some game, generally searching around for power crystals and weapons. Neither paying an awful lot of attention. 

 

Aaron’ hair was still damp. He’d woken up in a cold sweat. Justin’s heart was slowing to a more normal pace. Those fucking nightmares were a pain in the ass.

 

Brian opened the door and shut it behind him quietly. He was surprised to find them both awake. He noticed that they both looked scared and rumpled. He had a feeling Justin’d had a nightmare. From the looks of it so had Aaron. He was pale and a little clammy. They were both drinking beer.

 

Brian got himself a beer, although he was already pretty fucking drunk. He sat down next to Justin. Justin moved his hand as if moving the controller would actually translate to the screen. He wrinkled his nose. “The baths?”

 

Brian nodded. “Nightmare?”

 

Justin nodded. Aaron took a long swallow and then picked up his controller again. 

 

“Which one of you is gonna admit you need some fucking help first?”

 

They both looked at Brian. Justin’s character got eaten by a tiger. He cursed. Brian laughed.

 

“You’re drunk.”

 

Brian nodded. “You’re both fucked up.”

 

“So are you.”

 

Brian looked at Aaron. “I’m just drunk. In the morning. I’ll be sober…”

 

“And hung over.” Justin interjected.

 

“ _And hung over_ Brian allowed, but you two will still be fucked up.”

 

“We’re both fine.”

 

Brian shook his head at Aaron. “Nope.”

 

“Brian.” Justin was using that annoyingly low soothing voice he pulled out when he thought Brian was too far gone to talk rationally. “None of us are okay. You’re out tricking 'til four in the morning. And don’t tell me that’s not unusual, because while it’s not. This drunk and …” Justin leaned in and stared at Brian’s eyes. “Tweaked, is unusual these days. And Aaron can’t sleep. His hip hurts and the nightmares are fucking with him.” 

 

Aaron’s head shot up to deny any of it but Justin glared at him and he dropped his head. “I’m personally having a bit of trouble with the nightmare thing myself. However…”

 

Brian opened his mouth to say something and Justin held up a hand to stop him. “However, we do not need to talk to a professional trauma specialist to be told that this sucks, and is difficult, and that pushing through 'til the scenery changes is all you can do. So shut up about the professionals. I think by now, you and I are as good as it gets in the professional crisis management field. So go to bed. Wait… shower, then go to bed. I’ll leave some Advil and a bottle of water for you.”

 

Brian stood up and Justin shook his head at how drunk he really was. “At least tell me you took a cab and didn’t walk home. Getting mugged right now would be… less than the best, as far as timing goes.”

 

Brian nodded. “Took a cab.”

 

Justin got up to get the water and ibuprofen. Justin was sitting on the bed when Brian came out of the shower, wet and slightly more sober. He took the pills and swallowed them quickly, grimacing. 

 

Justin looked worried. “Are you hurt?”

 

Brian shook his head and sat down next to him. “This can’t go on.”

 

“What can’t?”

 

“All this bullshit.”

 

“Well that clears up everything.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“Much more clear now.”

 

“Go do whatever you were doing with Aaron. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

 

“Talk to me now.”

 

Brian leaned his head back against the headboard and closed his eyes. “Now’s not a good time.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Tomorrow.”

 

Justin walked away and Brian was asleep almost as soon as he left the room. He grabbed the controller from where he’d left it on the floor and restarted the game.

 

“What’s wrong with the two of you?”

 

“What? Nothing.”

 

“I thought you were both mad at me.”

 

“Neither of us are.”

 

“I’m starting to get that. There’s something wrong with you guys.”

 

“No. We do this sometimes.”

 

“No you don’t.”

 

“Aaron. This is that ‘you don’t know shit’ thing. You’re doing it again.”

 

“I know you two. You never do this. You’re acting like you’re… married.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Married. Not that way I joke about. Married, like… don’t talk to each other, don’t really… I don’t know. Christ it sounds like bullshit but it’s like you don’t notice when the other is in the room.”

 

“Is that so wrong?”

 

“Well, yeah. You guys are like… freaks. And now all of a sudden Brian doesn’t even want to be near you.”

 

“That’s not it.”

 

“So what is it?”

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

Justin could feel Aaron rolling his eyes. “Christ are you back on that. Complicated. Pfft.”

 

“It is. We’re… there’s a lot you don’t know. A lot happened before I knew you existed.”

 

“But that’s all ancient history.”

 

“It should be, yeah.”

 

“But it isn’t?”

 

Justin shook his head. “It’s really not.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“Long story. I’ll tell you this though. I think maybe you _should_ talk to someone.”

 

“I should?”

 

“Yeah. If you don’t deal with this shit as it comes up… you’re gonna have to deal with it much later. And trust me, it’s harder later.”

 

“So this is about you. About the prom and shit?”

 

“Kind of.”

 

Aaron laughed loudly. Justin turned his head sharply to stare at him. His onscreen character was shot by an evil troll. “What’s so fucking funny?”

 

“You. The two of you. I go out. On my own, as an adult, I get hurt, and somehow you both manage to make it about yourselves. You are the most megalomaniacal couple I’ve ever met.”

 

“We’re not making this about us.”

 

“So you’re not speaking and having nightmares because you’re worried about me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Fucking liar.”

 

“No. I am worried about you… because I know what this is like. I did this. I’m…. I might be still doing it.”

 

“But you think that you can make sure I do it right. That I heal better than you did.”

 

Justin nodded. “I do.”

 

“But… healing better… is that even possible.”

 

“Christ I hope so. If you have to carry around the baggage I do… well… I just wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

 

“But what about Brian.”

 

“He’s Brian. He’ll be sure the bashing was his fault 'til he dies. This… you… he’s got them jumbled in his brain. Now he’s responsible for both.”

 

“That’s such bullshit! He would NEVER let you get hurt if he could stop it!”

 

“Shhhh. I know. Tell Brian.”

 

“Right. Mr. Responsibility.”

 

“Mr. God complex.”

 

“That too. Justin?”

 

“Hmmm?”

 

“Can we fix him?”

 

Justin almost smiled. “I really thought I had. But…”

 

“Fuck. This really _is_ all my fault.”

 

“Don’t Aaron. It’s not. Most of it happened when you were a kid. That’s our fault. Not the bashing but the not dealing. We… we just didn’t. I got better at pushing the anger and shit back and then I could act normal. That’s all anyone wanted. I really thought it was all I wanted.”

 

“It wasn’t?”

 

“It was at the time. Hindsight’s twenty-twenty. Now I know I should have… I don’t know… I should have done some shit differently. Brian did it wrong too. Don’t tell him that.”

 

“Right, I’m gonna tell Brian he’s wrong about something. Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

 

“Opinions vary.”

 

“At least Lee’s okay and I don’t have to worry about him.”

 

“I’m not sure he is. He might be. You two are pretty solid these days.”

 

“Most of the time except for Dr. Julius.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Oh some guy I talk to. He was my professor and he’s like… he was attacked and he’s helping but Lee thinks he’s hitting on me.”

 

“Is he?”

 

“No. I swear.”

 

“I trust you. Of all the things you’re stupid about, knowing when guys are hitting on you isn’t one of them.”

 

“Yeah. There’s no vibe. But he gets it I think.”

 

“So you talk to him.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You know you can talk to me.”

 

“No.”

 

“You can.”

 

“You’ve got your own bullshit. I can’t do that. I’ll find other ways.”

 

“If you find one that works, let me know.”

 

“Are you really having nightmares?”

 

“Yeah. You?”

 

“Yeah. Bad.”

 

Justin nodded. “Maybe you should take something so you can get some sleep.”

 

Aaron shook his head. “I’m staying up for a while but help yourself. You should definitely go to bed. You look like shit.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“You do. You’re actually starting to look over twenty one.”

 

“I’m twenty eight.”

 

“I know that. But you’re actually starting to _look_ legal. It’s freaky.”

 

Justin put down the controller and went to bed. He tried to sleep. The wheeze of Brian’s drunken stupor had a calming effect on him. He timed his own breathing to Brian's and did eventually catch a few hours of rest.

 

He woke up to the bright sunlight bleeding through his eyelids. He was on his back. Brian’s arm was flung over his chest. He stiffened the moment he felt it and then breathed the way they’d taught him. He tried to analyze what was so scary about the scenario.

 

It was no different from a thousand other mornings. Brian still half asleep half passed out. His arm or leg carelessly thrown over him. This usually made him feel safe. He was panicking and he refused to give in to it anymore. He relaxed his body. Letting the stiffness in his limbs go. He focused on the warm smell of Brian. He focused on the not unpleasant feel of his arm against his chest.

 

Experimentally Justin moved himself closer to Brian’s body. Brian pulled him even closer. An automatic response. He stiffened again and fought back the need to escape. He focused on himself. Each muscle group.

 

His back was flush against Brian’s chest now. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Calves against shins, good, nothing wrong there. Good. Thighs and hips against Brian’s. Ass pressed into groin. Not a bad thing. Nothing to be scared of. Warm hard chest against his back. The soft feel of Brian’s breath on his ear, making his hair flutter and tickle. These were all good things. He dropped his head back on the pillow. He fought back the desire to move Brian’s arm from where it was protectively draped around his waist. Eventually he fell back asleep. Feeling not uncomfortable in Brian’s embrace.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian woke up to the sun pouring into the room. But more surprising than the late hour was his position, well, Justin’s. He lifted his head and saw that Justin was asleep. Somewhere in the night they’d found each other. He put his head back down, too comfortable and feeling too tenuous about the embrace to voluntarily release him. He was breathing, softly, calmly. He was comfortable in his sleep. He was comfortable with Brian’s touch.

 

Brian’s body screamed for him. Wanted him. Always wanted him but that could wait. Justin shifted in his sleep and snuggled closer to Brian, if that were possible. His ass wiggling against his morning hard on. He groaned. But he’d hold back. Right now… this was more important.


	6. Chapter 6

  

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Six 

* * *

 

 

 

Justin woke with a start. His heart was beating rapidly. He felt Brian’s arm around him and moved quickly, sitting up he ran a shaking hand through his hair. He looked down at Brian. Brian was watching him. Justin reached his hand out and Brian took it. 

 

“Nightmare?”

 

Justin shook his head and looked around for a cigarette. Brian handed him the pack from his nightstand and lit it for him. Sitting beside him. Neither said anything for a few minutes.

 

“We’re okay.”

 

Brian nodded.

 

“We are. I mean, well, we’re gonna be.”

 

Brian didn’t say anything. 

 

“You don’t believe me?”

 

“I do.”

 

I’m just… I know this isn’t about me, it just feels like it is. I’m worried about Aaron. I’m worried about you. I’m worried about me too.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“I wish I understood.”

 

“You don’t?”  
  


Justin shook his head. He stubbed out the cigarette and pulled his knees up wrapping his arms around them. “I really don’t. I’m not having nightmares about Chris Hobbes.”

 

He looked over at Brian who seemed expressionless. He pushed on. “It’s about… pain, and blood. They’re… they don’t make sense.”

 

“Dreams usually don’t.”

 

“But if it’s just that Aaron got hurt, then why am I so fucking thrown?”

 

Justin waited but Brian didn’t seem to have an answer. 

 

“I think maybe… I think it’s… I think I need to… Fuck! I’m taking a shower.”

 

Justin felt Brian’s eyes on him as he closed the bathroom door. He let the water from the shower hide his tears. He was not gonna become some crying faggot again.

 

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

 

Brian watched Justin emerge from the bedroom. He’d been crying. He didn’t cry in front of him anymore. He wanted to say something. He poured him a cup of coffee instead. Justin took it gratefully and they spent some more time in silence. They seemed to be doing that a lot lately.

 

Twenty minutes later Lee came out of Aaron's room and poured himself a cup of coffee. He settled on the barstool next to Justin. Brian was leaning against the kitchen counter.

 

“You came back?”

 

“Aaron called me at like six this morning. He was a little shaky.”

 

Brian nodded. Justin poured himself another cup of coffee and sat back down. “He okay now?”

 

“He’s asleep. The meds knock him out.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I’m a sorry guy.”

 

“For what?”

 

Lee almost laughed. “I’m not entirely sure. Feels like someone should be apologizing for something though, huh?”  
  


“No one in this apartment.”

 

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish I’d been there.”

 

“Why? You couldn’t have stopped the guy.”

 

“I could have stopped Aaron. His friends took off. They knew that guy was trouble. Backing down from trouble is not Aaron's strong suit.”

 

“It’s genetic.”

 

Justin shot Brian a nasty glare and Brian smirked. 

 

“I’ve got work to do. I’ll be in the studio.” 

Lee and Brian did the silence thing.

 

“Matt’s worried about Justin.”

 

“Who isn’t?”  
  


“He’s not returning his calls.”

 

“Justin's a big boy.”

 

“He won’t come out with us.”

 

“Talk to him.”

 

“I did.”

 

“So why are you talking to me?”

 

“Well, you can convince Justin to…”

 

“I can’t convince Justin to do shit.”

 

“I just thought…”

 

“Don’t.”

 

Lee shrugged and went back to Aaron’s room. Brian washed the three coffee mugs and considered what Justin had told him that morning. What Lee had just told him? Justin wasn’t just retreating from him. He was retreating from everyone. Fucking great.

 

He opened his laptop and tried to concentrate on the pitch he had on Monday. He ended up doing a little online research. He didn’t find anything he hadn’t already heard a thousand times. He closed his laptop and went out pick up the refills on Aaron’s prescriptions. 

 

His phone rang when he was leaving the pharmacy. “Hey Lindz.”

 

“Brian. I called to say thank you.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Gus’s birthday present.”

 

“Doesn’t Miss Manners say it’s polite for the recipient to make the thank you call.”

 

“Gus will call you later. He’s busy pouting.”

 

“Aaaah the real reason for the call.”

 

“He doesn’t want to go to school.”

 

“He doesn’t have a choice.”

 

“He’s scared.”

 

“He’ll be fine.”

 

“Talk to him?”

 

“Put him on.”

 

“Call him.”

 

“Lindz, if he’s not talking to you what makes you think he’s gonna talk to me?” Brian really wondered why everyone thought he had some sway over scared kids. Wasn’t his life a clear illustration of just how much he didn’t know about the subject?

 

“Brian.”

 

“I’ll call him in a couple of minutes.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“How are you doing?”

 

“I think I got all the cake out of the rug.”

 

Brian laughed. They chatted about nothing for another minute and then Brian said goodbye and got on the elevator, heading home.

 

Justin was still in the studio. Lee was probably still in Aaron’s room. Brian didn’t check. He called Gus.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey dad.”

 

“Have a good birthday?”

 

“You were there.”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Stop pretending you’re old and forgetful.”

 

“Maybe I am.”

 

“Then why won’t you forget the stuff I want you too?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“Like magic marker I left on the chair.”

 

“Yeah, had to have the whole fucking thing reupholstered.”

 

“You’re not supposed to curse and no you didn’t. Justin got it out.”

 

“See, I am forgetful.”

 

“Whatever. What’s up?”

 

“Something has to be up?”

 

“No but…”

 

“You know you have to go to school.”

 

“I so seriously don’t want to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“So I don’t have to go?”

 

“Didn’t say that.”

 

“Mom doesn’t get it.”

 

“Probably not, moms seldom do.”

 

“I don’t know anyone.”

 

“Staying away is a great way to fix that.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Sorry, forgot, eleven year olds and logic bad combination.”

 

“I’m being logical.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Dad, these kids have known each other forever.”

 

“So?”

 

“So why would they want to know me?”

 

“The novelty factor alone should be enough.”

 

“They’re all eleven too.”

 

“Trust me. Eleven year olds value novelty over everything.”

 

“Not with people.”

 

“Oh yeah.”

 

“Dad, what am I gonna do?”

 

“The first day’s gonna suck Sonny-boy.”

 

“I know.”

 

“It’ll get better.”

 

“How do you know?’

 

“It has to.”

 

“So you’re saying this is gonna be the worst day of my life?”

 

“Fuck. Stop being smart.”

 

“Okay, I’ll be dumb. And I’m gonna tell mom you’re cursing in front of me.”

 

“I’m sure she’ll be shocked.”

 

“Can’t I just be home schooled?”

 

“We’re not religious freaks.”

 

“It’s not just for religious freaks anymore.”

 

“I paid a fortune to get you into this place. You’re going.”

 

“So now it’s about you and money?”  
  


“You been talking to Justin?”

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“Justin doesn’t talk to me lately.”

 

“Since when?”

 

“He’s busy taking care of Aaron.”

 

“Well, Aaron got hurt.”

 

“I know.” Brian could hear Gus roll his eyes. The kid spent way too much time with Justin over the summer.

 

“He’ll call you soon. We’ll do something next weekend.”

 

“We will?”

 

“Sure. I want to hear about the worst day of your life.”

 

“Da-ad”

 

“Christ. There’s only one syllable in that word.”

 

“Not if I do it right.”

 

“You’ll knock ‘em dead.”

 

“Maybe literally. Like those kids who shoot up their schools.”

 

“Wait to find out if they’re really assholes before you make that your exit strategy.”

 

“Can’t I just go in and strike first. Sometimes a good offense beats a well planned defense.”

 

“Where the fuck did you learn that?”

 

“Momma.”

 

“Figures.”

 

“So can we go gun shopping this weekend?”

 

Brian laughed. “No. But we can go clothes shopping.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“Fine wear Osh-Kosh for the rest of your life.”

 

“You’re being stupid.”

 

“Funny. I thought you were the one who wanted to be dumb.”

 

“No you told me to stop being smart.”

 

“Start being smart again.”

 

“I want to go out for the pee-wee football team.”

 

“Your mother’s gonna have a heat attack.”

 

“I know. Can you sign the permission slip?”

 

“No. But I’ll talk to her.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“I’ve gotta go.”

 

“Okay. Bye.”

 

“Bye.”

 

“I love you dad.”

 

“You too Gus.”

 

Brian hung up the phone and sat for a minute. When his most mature and productive conversations were with an eleven year old he had to consider what the fuck had happened to his life. He shook his head and lost himself for a couple of hours in the pitch that really did need his attention. 

 

He was staring blankly at the screen and pressing his thumbnail between his front teeth as he considered and discarded verbiage for the campaign. He heard Justin in the kitchen and turned.

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hey, I’m hungry. You want something?”

 

Brian shrugged. Justin nodded. “Just sandwiches. I don’t feel like cooking. 

 

Ten minutes later Justin slid a sandwich in front of Brian and sat across from him with his own. He put a beer in front of each of them as well. 

 

“Think Aaron’s hungry?”

 

“Lee will get him something. He’s probably still asleep.”

 

“They’re the low fat chips. It’s safe to eat them I swear.”

 

Brian popped a chip in his mouth and pulled the top slice of bread off of his sandwich. He looked at it quizzically.

 

“It’s tuna salad, not an alien life form.”

 

Brian shrugged and took a bite. “So how’s the painting going?”

 

“Boring.”

 

“We’re doing something with Gus next weekend.”

 

“I might be busy.”

 

“He wants to see you. Says you’ve been avoiding him.”

 

“I haven’t.”

 

“No more than anything else.”

 

“I’m not avoiding things.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“I’m not.”

 

“Why can’t I agree with you? I do and you still get argumentative.”

 

“You’re not agreeing. You’re humoring me.”

 

“Really not.”

 

“You’re putting up with me.”

 

“Just barely.”

 

“Sorry.”

 

“Cut it the fuck out.”

 

“I am.”

 

“I mean it. I’m not putting up with you.”

 

“So what are you doing?”

 

“Waiting.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Figured I’d know when I saw it.”

 

“So you’re just waiting for me to… what?”

 

“Whatever it is you need to do.”

 

“You’re just gonna wait.”

 

“Do I have a choice?”

 

“You could yell and scream. You could leave.”

 

“Do you want me to do one of those?”

 

“Maybe both.”

 

Brian was about to take a sip of his beer. He put it down and looked at Justin. “I’m not doing either one of those.”

 

“You have a right to.”

 

“No shit. And I don’t need the right. I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

 

“You don’t want to yell.”

 

“How would that make any of this better?”

 

“Might make you feel better.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

“You might be happier if you left.”

 

“You doing this to get rid of me or make sure I’m not thinking about bolting?”

 

Justin looked at his hands. “Probably the second one.”

 

“Not this time. I’m not pushing you away.”

 

Justin looked up. “Is that what you think you did?”

 

“We both know what I did.”

 

“And what I did.”

 

“Right.”

 

“Let’s not do that again.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“So if you’re not gonna yell, and you’re not gonna leave, how long do I have?”

 

“For what?”

 

“‘Til you do something drastic.”

 

“What drastic action do you think I’m planning?”

 

“I don’t know. What drastic action _are_ you planning?”

 

“Not.”

 

“Liar.”

 

“Really not. Do this. Tell me what you need.”

 

Justin took a deep breath through his nose. “What if all I need is time?”

 

“Then take it.”

 

“What if I need more than time?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I need to do something Brian.”

 

“So do it.”

 

“I don’t know what I need to do.”

 

“Last night was a good start.”

 

“It took all my strength.”

 

“To let me hold you.”

 

Justin closed his eyes and nodded. “It took… I just… I don’t’ know why I’m so scared.”

 

Brian stood up. He held out his hand to Justin. He watched as Justin seemed to struggle with himself before taking the offered hand and letting Brian lead him to the office.

 

Brian closed the door. Justin looked up. “We have the whole apartment.”

 

“Lee and Aaron.”

 

“We have a bedroom.”

 

“Not trying to fuck you.”

 

“You want to do my taxes?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Brian was standing almost a foot away from Justin. He put his hand out and stroked Justin's bicep lightly. Justin running his hand down it. Justin flinched away.

 

“Stop.”

 

“I…”

 

“Just tell me… what’s wrong with this?”

 

Justin breathed and closed his eyes. “Nothing.”

 

Okay. So what’s scary about it?”

 

“Nothing I guess.”

 

Brian’s hand moved higher to Justin's shoulder. “This?” He felt Justin tense under his fingers and used every effort to keep his touch light. “Tell me.”

 

“I just… I can’t breathe.”

 

“Breathe.”

 

Justin inhaled deeply. “Okay. It’s okay.”

 

Brian’s hand moved slowly up to Justin’s face. He watched as a tear slid past his closed eyes. “This is bad?” Justin nodded but Brian didn’t remove his hand. “Why?”

 

Justin shook his head and Brian took a step closer. Justin’s breathing was shallow and rapid and Brian moved behind him. “It’s okay.” He whispered it in his ear. It’s okay, I swear. He circled again moving in front of him. He wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist and Justin struggled. Brian held him and Justin pushed at his chest. Brian tried one more time but Justin was really panicked. Brian released him and watched as he backed himself against the wall and slid down. He pulled his knees in and dropped his forehead onto them.

 

Brian wanted to touch him. To rub his back, to soothe him. But he was causing the panic. He waited. He stood motionless while Justin pressed his hands down and flexed his fingers digging his nails into the hardwood floor. His breathing slowed and deepened and Brian carefully lowered himself to the floor in front of Justin. He didn’t touch him. He just sat. Watching. 

 

Eventually Justin lifted his head. He gave Brian a crooked smile that never got anywhere near his eyes. 

 

“What was that?”

 

“That was me being a useless faggot.”

 

“No.”

 

“I just… you were holding me.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And it felt… it was… it’s… you love me.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“And I’m broken.”

 

“No.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Justin…”

 

“I am. I just… I was remembering. I’ve been remembering. Stuff I didn’t think I’d ever remember. I mean, the scarf… you wore that. And your shirt was black and you looked… you loved me then.”

 

“I think so.” Brian tried not to react emotionally but this was the first time Justin had ever remembered anything other than the fear, or the pain. 

 

“You loved me. I kept spinning. Fuck, how the hell did we know how to dance like that?”

 

Brian huffed a sound that was almost a laugh. “Babylon?”

 

“We didn’t dance like that at Babylon… we kissed like that though.”

 

“Did we?”

 

“Maybe not. You loved me.”

 

“You said that.”

 

“No wonder you were pissed I couldn’t remember.”

 

“I was pissed that you were…”

 

“Broken.”

 

“You’re not broken.”

 

“You loved me.”

 

“Why the fuck do you keep saying that.”

 

“Because it’s the only thought that kept going through my head when we were spinning. You. Loved. Me.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“So if you loved me…that much… and then we still… I mean it still took us so long…”

 

“Fuck.”

 

“It’s not enough.”

 

Brian reached out a hand and Justin pulled back. “I get it.”

 

“What?”

 

“I get the whole thing. All of it.”

 

“You’ve cracked the unified theory?”

 

“The unified theory of us.”

 

“And what’s that?”

 

“It doesn’t matter. If you could love me that much… and still push me away… if I could know it and still go. It’s not enough. Nothing’s enough. Nothing ever will be enough.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“Brian, ‘no such thing as enough’, isn’t’ that a direct quote.”

 

“No such thing as enough sex. I need to use more nouns.”

 

“No such thing as enough love. There isn’t enough… there isn’t any guarantee.”

 

“You thought we had this down?”

 

“I did.”

 

“You thought I came with some kind of guarantee this time?”

 

“I thought we were a lock.”

 

“We’re not. We never will be.”

 

“So don’t touch me okay?”

 

“No.”

 

“I’m telling you what I need.”

 

“You’re wrong.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“You need that too. But right now you need to know. No.”

 

“You’re gonna force me?”

 

Brian gave him a dismissive look. “You have to trust something. You can’t just… fuck, you have to trust me.”

 

“I… I do. I don’t trust us.”

 

Brian didn’t move. In all the things Justin had ever lost faith in. Only once had it really been them… and that was… that was the same fucking thing as this. Goddamnmotherfuckingshit. He reached out and touched Justin’s face again. Justin tried to flinch away but Brian’s touch remained light and soft and persistent. Eventually Justin leaned into his hand. The tears were flowing but he gave in to it.

 

“What’s this feel like?”  
  


“Love.”

 

Brian closed his eyes. He was NOT going to cry. 

 

“Why’s that making you cry?”

 

“I don’t’ want to lose it.”

 

“Neither do I.”

 

“But we could.”

 

“That’s reality.”

 

“But we won’t?”

 

“Not if either of us can help it.”

 

“We did last time.”

 

“You keep telling me you were a stupid kid.”

 

“I was.”

 

“Me too.”

 

Justin unfolded his legs and stretched them out. Brian moved closer to him until they were sharing breath. The air between their bodies musky and warm. Barely touching. An grazed knee, the stroke of Brian’s hand on Justin's face. Justin opened his eyes and leaned forward. Kissing Brian tentatively.

 

Brian responded, not with the ferocity of need he felt, but with a tender and soft acceptance of Justin’s kiss. 

 

He kissed him back and Justin’s body moved involuntarily closer to Brian's. Brian resisted the strong urge to put his arms around him. He didn’t want him to freak again. This was progress. Not forced progress.

 

Justin leaned back from the kiss. A small smile on his face. “I missed kissing you.”

 

“It’s my second favorite thing you do with your mouth.”

 

Justin kissed him again. Slowly moving his hands around Brian. Brian still didn’t reciprocate. Justin was practically in his lap now. His legs over Brian’s. His chest flush against him. His ass on the floor between Brian’s thighs as he tilted his head back for another kiss. His hands sliding over Brian’s shirt. They stayed that way for a long time. Soft tender kisses. Brian’s breath stopping when he felt Justin pull away even for a moment.

 

Eventually Brian found the courage to move a single arm around Justin. To pull him closer. He felt no resistance. He felt their chests fit together the way they had always done so well. He sighed his relief into Justin’s wet and waiting mouth. 

 

It was a slow build. Their kissing, their touching was languid, tender and tentative. Brian pushed back all thoughts. He followed Justin’s lead and allowed him to set the pace. He didn’t even let his mind wander to the lovely thought of burying himself inside the boy. If Justin wasn’t ready, he would not force the issue. He wouldn’t even show a desire. He wanted Justin, not Justin’s compliance. Not Justin’s need to make sure he didn’t leave.

 

And when Justin’s talented and soft fingers found their way to his cock, stroking him over his jeans he couldn’t help but move with him.

 

He moved his own hand slowly, but Justin sped up the pace. Thrusting into his hand. Soon he was pulling off Brian’s jeans. Brian still waited. 

 

Justin undid his own fly and both piles of denim were flung onto the sofa on the far side of the room.

 

“I want you.” He whispered huskily into Brian’s ear.

 

Brian pulled back a little. “Are you sure?”

 

Justin laughed then and Brian had the ridiculous feeling that the sound had actually shattered something heavy that had been sitting on his chest because he suddenly felt as if he could breathe for the first time. He leaned back 'til he was flat on the floor and pulled Justin on top of him. Rolling them over until he was stretched across Justin’s body. 

 

“Don’t play with me.” His voice was rough but his eyes must have still been questioning because Justin reached up and stroked his cheek the way he’d done to Justin when this all started.

 

“Not playing. I need you. I need you inside me.”

 

Brian reached out for his jeans and grabbed the condom and lube. Justin sighed and laid on his back, his eyes closed. Brian’s preparations were careful and slow, and he never took his eyes off Justin's face. Never stopped watching for any apprehension. 

 

When he was satisfied that Justin was sure about this he entered him slowly. Justin stretched his body under him. Wrapping his ankles around Brian’s waist and Brian leaned down to kiss him.

 

His hands stroked the blonde hair off of his forehead. His body kept as much contact as possible. Like a man deprived of water too long his entire body was desperate for Justin. Absorbed him. Worshipped him. Loved him. Fucked him. And Justin’s eyes opened in what seemed like surprise when his orgasm started. 

 

“Fuck Brian. God, Christ, I love you. Brian, fuck.”

 

Brian smiled and came as Justin’s body milked the last of the orgasm from him.

 

He was about to roll off of Justin but he felt his arms wrap around his waist. “Just… just…stay, for a little bit.”

 

Brian rested his weight on his elbows and tried not to crush him. Justin smiled contentedly under the weight of Brian’s body. “Maybe it is enough.” 

 

Brian nodded and kissed him again.

 

 

  
  


 


	7. Chapter 7

Safe Keeping 7

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Seven   


* * *

  
  


 

Justin was bleeding. Brian pressed the material against the wound to staunch the flow of blood. It wasn’t working. Aaron was watching passively and Brian was trying to yell to him, get him to get help. Aaron said something and Brian couldn’t hear him, his heart was beating too loudly in his ears.   
  


Aaron said it again and Brian understood. To stop the bleeding he had to find the source. He pulled apart the flesh and realized too late this was the worst possible plan. The blood was everywhere. Justin’s face was sticky and red and his body looked like a newborn’s, covered in mucus and blood.  
  


Aaron shook his head and walked away. Brian tried harder to stop the blood but they were on the floor of the apartment now. Justin stood up on shaky legs and Brian tried to wrap a bandage around the wound. He knew he was doing it wrong. He knew he shouldn’t be able to actually see the gray matter in Justin's head but he could.  
  


He anchored the bandage around Justin’s body until he looked like a mummy from a bad old movie.  
  


Justin shrugged and smiled and Brian wondered for a moment how he could even see the smile behind the bandages. Justin unwrapped one from his own waist and handed it to Brian. “You need this.”  
  


Brian looked at him questioningly and then, in horror, watched the bright red splotch form on the pristine white dressing around Justin’s head. It bloomed like a flower, growing rapidly. Brian tried to tell Justin about it but Justin shook his head and walked out of the loft.  
  


He was left with a single strip of gauze. The gauze had fringe on the edges and Brian tried to follow Justin but tripped over Aaron lying on the floor. He slung the white scarf around his neck and leaned over to see if Aaron was okay.  
  


He felt the warm wet feeling of blood again and looked up, hoping to see Justin standing in the doorway. Justin was spinning, wearing a tuxedo. Brian was at the door to the loft, but through the doorway was Debbie's house.   
  


Chris came through the back door and swung. Jennifer screamed and Brian woke up in a cold sweat.  
  


He ran a shaking hand through his hair and glanced over at Justin who was, for the moment, peacefully asleep. Brian knew that could change at any time. He lit a cigarette and rested his head against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. Closing his eyes seemed like a bad idea.  
  


He left the cigarette in the ashtray and reached around on the floor. His fingers grazed the cool glass of the bottle. He brought it up to the bed and frowned at it. Empty. He stood up on shaky legs and searched the bar. They were out of Beam. Fuck. He cracked a bottle of single malt scotch and used it to chase a couple of Xanex. He lit a joint and sat on the sofa.   
  


He turned the television on, leaving the volume low. He didn’t have the faith he used to in Justin’s ability to sleep through anything. He didn’t want to be caught sitting out here in the middle of the night drinking straight from the bottle. He found a documentary on the history of ice cream and watched with very little interest. Sometimes shows like this could draw him in. Right now, he was still lost to the memory of his dream.  
  


It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what it meant. He shook his head, trying to clear it. It didn’t work. He took another warm swallow of smooth scotch and wondered why they made rum raisin ice cream but not scotch flavored. He’d buy it… if it were low fat and sugar free. He pushed the thought away and decided he didn’t need the ice cream, he had the scotch.  
  


It was almost four in the morning. He took another long drag from the joint in his hand and almost craved Debbie’s presence. He could use some tuna noodle casserole and a mom. He didn’t have either. He could call… there was no one to call. Michael might have helped once. Not anymore. Justin. He could usually count on Justin for shit like this but not this. This was… he couldn’t do that. Justin’s recovery was slow, and shaky, and not at all complete.  
  


He’d gone out to dinner with Matt and Becca earlier. That had been a major step. He smiled sometimes, that was an improvement too. He let himself be touched. He let himself want to be touched. That was all very good, very important. But he was still twitchy in public. Loud noises made him flinch. Aaron’s little jokes about his own gimpiness bothered Justin more than he’d admit. But Brian couldn’t tell Aaron to stop it. Aaron needed to deal with his issues his way.  
  


He took another long pull from the bottle. Alone. Everyone lives alone. Everyone dies alone. He’d forgotten that for a little while. He’d allowed himself to take some things for granted. He remembered now why he’d fought so fucking hard against this. Yeah it was years ago, the feelings were still valid. This fucking hurt. More scotch.  
  


On television a guy with a literal gold spoon was tasting ice cream flavors and Brian wondered what this guy’s trauma was. Everyone had one and no one who tastes ice cream for a living also gets to have true love and happy healthy children and… what the fuck ever this guy would think would make him a lucky bastard.   
  


Brian realized that maybe that’s what was wrong. Living with Justin was like tasting ice cream for a living. Then he realized that he was pretty fucking wasted because living with Justin was also a lot like having your teeth pulled without anesthetic. He shook his head and rested it in his hands.  
  


He startled when he felt someone touch his shoulder. It was Justin draped in a sheet.  
  


“You own a robe.”  
  


Justin shrugged. “You okay?”  
  


Brian smiled brightly. “Perfect.”  
  


Justin sat next to him and took the bottle from his hands. He stared at it for a moment. “You just open this?”  
  


Brian shrugged. Justin took a sip and handed it back. “You’re gonna pass out and not be able to get to the office.”  
  


Brian didn’t say anything. His head was nodding forward. Justin ran his hand through Brian’s hair. He kissed Brian’s neck. “Come back to bed.”   
  


Brian shook his head and held up the bottle. Justin shrugged and leaned his head on Brian’s shoulder. “Brian.”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Don’t.”  
  


“You know this doesn’t work.”  
  


Brian didn’t say another word. He did take another long drink and then leaned his head back against the sofa staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Justin nestled closer to Brian. Moving his head against his chest. Brian’s arm came up instinctively and wrapped around Justin. They sat like that. Neither talking, neither really sleeping.  
  


They didn’t move again, except for Brian’s bringing the bottle to his mouth, for several hours. They were both startled by Lee’s intrusion. “Coffee?”  
  


Justin sat up, groggy. He hadn’t been asleep but he hadn’t been fully awake either. He nodded and Lee started the coffeemaker.   
  


Justin looked over at Brian. His eyes were closed. Justin tried to move carefully, hoping to let him sleep. Brian’s eyes opened immediately. Justin gave him a small smile. Brian didn’t return it. “It’s almost seven. You want me to call Cynthia?”  
  


Brian shook his head and made a move to get up. Justin pushed him back down. “There’s no way you’re…”  
  


Brian moved with more force. He felt weighted but he had to get the fuck out of this place. “I’m taking a shower. Coffee sounds good.”  
  


Justin nodded and moved towards the kitchen. Brian let the warm water soothe him. It wasn’t all he needed but it was a start. By the time he’d dressed and fucked with his hair for the obligatory half hour Justin and Lee were chatting cheerily. Brian pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath before straightening his shoulders and walking out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.  
  


Justin poured him a mug of coffee. He nodded his thanks. “You sure you don’t want to…”  
  


Brian shook his head. “I’ll be fine. Couple of aspirin and about six more cups of this shit and I’ll get through the day.”  
  


Justin nodded and Brian left without even kissing Justin on the cheek.  
  


Once Brian left Lee looked at Justin carefully. “You seem better.”  
  


“Than what?”  
  


Lee shrugged. “Last week I guess.”  
  


“Yeah, I had to work through some stuff.”  
  


“Aaron’s doing better too.”  
  


Justin felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t even asked. He’d been so focused on himself, and Brian… they’d just left a lot of Aaron’s bullshit to Lee. “He talking to that professor?”  
  


Lee made a face. “Yeah, I don’t trust the guy.”  
  


“Trust Aaron.”  
  


Lee shook his head. “Can’t right now.”  
  


Justin looked up from his coffee. “Why not?”  
  


“He’s… never mind. We’ll handle it.”  
  


“Lee, what’s up?”  
  


“Nothing, just having a little trouble trusting him when I can’t help wanting to shake him.”  
  


Lee looked at Justin and Justin realized he must look confused because Lee sighed and tried to explain further. “That guy, those guys, the ones that attacked him?”  
  


Justin nodded.   
  


“They wouldn’t have been able to do that if he’d walked away.”  
  


“Lee, there was no way he could know… there was no way to see this coming.”  
  


“I know. Rationally, I know that. But I still just want to shake him and ask him what the fuck he thought he was doing.”  
  


“He wasn’t thinking. He was wasted. And young, and he fucked up.”  
  


Justin heard a loud clunk and realized Aaron had been standing in the doorway of his bedroom. He’d dropped a crutch. Lee went over to help him retrieve it.   
  


“Don’t. I can do it myself.”  
  


“Aaron, I didn’t mean…”  
  


“Yes you did. And it’s okay. You’re right. I’m glad someone finally said it.”  
  


Justin moved closer to them. “Aaron, no one said it was your fault. It wasn’t.”  
  


Aaron grudgingly accepted the crutch from Aaron and turned back towards his bedroom. “Fuck the both of you. If you can’t be honest to my face, stop talking about me behind my back.” He slammed his door and Lee and Justin stood mutely staring at it.  
  


Lee put his hand on the knob. “I’ll do this.”  
  


Justin nodded. He didn’t want to double team Aaron, and while he was loathe to admit it, he wasn’t sure he knew what to say, or that he had the energy to say anything. He was more worried about Brian at the moment.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian was on his fourth cup of coffee and sixth aspirin when Cynthia stood in front of him. She handed him a couple of files and then sat down in the chair across from his desk. “Brian.”  
  


“That’s Mr. Kinney to you.”  
  


“Brian. Go home.”  
  


Brian shook his head.   
  


“You want lunch?”  
  


Brian shook his head again and Cynthia sat back I the chair. “Call him.”  
  


“Who?”  
  


“Justin. Call him, apologize, let him apologize, whatever. Fix this.”  
  


“Fix what?”  
  


“Aren’t you… you two didn’t?”  
  


Brian closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. “You think we what, broke up?” His face was disbelieving.  
  


“You didn’t?”  
  


“We’re fine.”  
  


“Oh.” Cynthia opened her mouth to say something else but couldn’t think of anything that wouldn’t result in Brian taking her head off. She left the office quietly.  
  


Brian put his head on the desk and banged it a few times. He suddenly understood why Justin found this therapeutic. He did it again. A few minutes later he sat up and tried to focus on whatever was in the folders Cynthia had handed him.  
  


Eventually he gave up and stretched out on the sofa in his office, closing his eyes for a few minutes.  
  


He woke up several hours later. He couldn’t remember the dream. He knew it had been aggravating and graphic. He sat up and looked quickly at the door making sure he’d been unobserved.   
  


This time he did start to focus on work and before the end of the day, he’d managed to get enough accomplished to feel like he might not be a complete waste of the earth’s resources. Cynthia popped her head in to say goodbye. He waved to her without looking up from the new cell phone ad board.   
  


When he finally cleared his desk it was after nine. He turned out the lights, set the alarm and changed into club clothes he kept at the office. He didn’t bother to call Justin. He had a feeling he wasn’t expected back this evening.   
  


He found what he needed at a bathhouse a client had told him about. Exclusive, members only kind of shit. But only the best. Hot guys, good drugs. His brain was hazy. The GHB mixed with more than a few shots of chivas regal left him feeling… well, left him not feeling.   
  


He made sure he had enough of what he needed to get him through the next day and dragged a likely candidate into a small room. As he was leading the man to the door another hot guy caught his eye. He pulled him in too.   
  


Hours later both men had left and he was feeling better. Actually, he still wasn’t feeling a thing, and that _was_ better. He closed his eyes and slept again. He woke to hands on him. He looked up to find a better than average man smiling down at him. Brian wrapped his hand around the man's wrist and moved him deliberately towards his cock. The guy took direction well. Brian smiled and closed his eyes again. The man’s mouth was on him, hot and wet and his tongue was talented. He let out a long sigh. Then he saw it. The guy’s head was open. The top of his skull was missing. That hot wet feeling wasn’t his mouth, it was blood. Blood all the fuck over his face. Brian sat up quickly and pushed the guy away.  
  


He looked confused and Brian blinked a few times.   
  


He stormed out, muttering something about assholes and too good-looking to be polite. And Brian would have laughed if he weren’t shaking. He knew it was a dream but… fuck it. He wrapped a towel around his waist and ordered another drink. He mixed a wet finger’s worth of GHB into the scotch and drank it in a single swallow.  
  


He found his locker. Pulled on his clothes and hailed a cab.   
  


The cab driver was looking at him oddly. He looked back. “What?”  
  


“I don’t know where that is.”  
  


“Where what is?”  
  


“The corner of Fuller and Tremont.”  
  


Brian muttered something and the cab driver shook his head. “Get out, or tell me where I’m supposed to take you.”  
  


Brian gave him the address of the apartment and closed his eyes. When he felt the cab stop he started to get out. “We’re not there yet buddy, it’s just a red light.”  
  


Brian nodded and tried to stay more alert. When they were a couple of blocks from his building Brian told the driver to stop, threw a fifty towards him and got out. The driver took off quickly and Brian staggered down the block. He made it inside the building and sat down heavily on one of the chairs in the lobby.   
  


The night guard looked at him. “You okay Mr. Kinney?”  
  


Brian nodded and took another moment before he stood up and headed towards the elevator. Once inside he leaned against the wall. Justin greeted him at the door.  
  


“They called and said you looked sick.”  
  


“I’m the picture of health.”  
  


Brian knew Justin wanted to argue the point but he pushed past him and grabbed the half empty bottle of scotch before heading to the bedroom.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin found Brian naked sprawled on his back taking up most of the bed. He pushed at him a little and then a little harder until he was lying on his side. He’d deal with the rest in the morning but he couldn’t do that if Brian choked on his own vomit in the middle of the night.  
  


He slid in behind Brian and wrapped an arm around his waist. The gesture was mostly for comfort. It was also to make sure Brian didn’t roll onto his back while they were both asleep.  
  


It was almost noon before he woke up. The bed was empty. Justin pulled on a pair of sweatpants and wandered out into the living room. Brian was sitting on the sofa.   
  


“You going in today?”  
  


Brian shook his head.   
  


Justin poured himself a cup of coffee and after a sip realized it was old and luke-warm. Brian had been up for a while. He started a fresh pot and sat down next to Brian on the sofa. “You were pretty fucked up last night.”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“We’re supposed to go see Gus tomorrow. You gonna be able to handle that?”  
  


Brian nodded again.  
  


“You know that thing you think I need to do.”  
  


Brian looked at him questioningly.  
  


“The talking thing.”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“You do too.”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Long night. I’m fine.”  
  


“Fucking liar.”  
  


“Justin.”  
  


“Don’t tell me to drop this.”  
  


“Drop this.”  
  


“This isn’t your fault.”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“Really really isn’t your fault.”  
  


Brian nodded again.  
  


“You need to deal with this.”  
  


“With what?”  
  


“Don’t be dense, and don’t do this.”  
  


“I’m not doing anything. You think there’s some deep underlying meaning to my going out and getting laid?”  
  


“Usually, no. This time? Yeah.”   
  


“Getting fucked up is pretty usual for me.”  
  


“Not lately, and never this bad.”  
  


Brian stood up. “Changed my mind. I’m going in.”  
  


Justin waited until Brian was out of the room to drop his head in his hands. For the first time in a long time he actually wanted to call Michael. Michael might know what to do about this. Michael had… fuck! Michael hadn’t been able to fix this then either.  
  


Justin poured himself a cup of coffee and considered his options. There weren’t many, he wasn’t sure there were any. He put his coffee down and headed towards the bathroom. He dropped his sweat pants and slid into the shower behind Brian.  
  


Brian turned around pulling Justin to him. He kissed him, almost perfunctorily before spinning him quickly and pressing him against the glass wall. Justin splayed his hands against the glass and let Brian’s body speak for him. And it did. It spoke of desperation, of need, of panic, of desire, of things Brian wouldn’t admit, not out loud and not even, Justin guessed, to himself, in the cacophony of his own brain. But he’d give Brian a little more time to work it out. Pushing wasn’t the answer. Brian had been patient with him. Brian had been caring, and gentle and perfect and he was doing better. He could return the favor. He could give Brian what he needed.  
  


He tried not to panic. He tried not to think about how little he knew about what Brian needed right now. He felt like pushing might actually be the right thing. But that never worked. He had to give Brian time… the one thing he knew was he wasn’t letting this go. He wasn’t going to let Brian bury it again and pretend it had no effect on him.  
  


He felt the moment Brian realized he wasn’t all there with him. The hands on his chest became insistent. Brian’s movements slowed down and became more deliberate. Brian’s mouth was hot against his ear as he bit at the lobe. Justin arched his body and pushed further back onto Brian’s cock. He reached his own hand back pulling Brian’s head down for a kiss.   
  


All the rest would work itself out. He had to believe that. He had to have some faith that together they’d get through this. And until he had faith… he had this.  
  


He felt his orgasm build and his own hand joined Brian’s as they both slid soapy fingers over his dick. Brian was pounding into him and Justin knew Brian was close too. He reached his free hand back to Brian’s hip and held him still as they both came. Brian's arm was around Justin’s waist now and Justin turned, burying his head in Brian’s chest.  
  


Brian kissed the top of his head and then they went about the business of actually using the ridiculously expensive products for their intended purposes.  
  


Justin headed to the studio and Brian went to the office. Neither sure what the fuck they were doing.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


Justin’s pissing me off. That’s not new. None of this is new. I’m a little off balance. Okay, I can fucking deal with that. We’re heading towards Gus’s school. Football tryouts today. Lindsay said they probably let anyone on the team. Great, no point in Gus learning the importance of competition, give everyone a medal just for showing up.   
  


Justin’s not talking. He wants to say something but he knows I don’t want to hear it. I’m not even sure what he wants to say but I’m pretty sure he’s right about my not wanting to hear it. He’s been trying for a couple of days to tell me. He doesn’t know shit. Not about this. He thinks I’m fucked up because I blame myself. He’s wrong. That’s not new. Justin’s wrong more than he likes to think.   
  


Nothing fucking happened to me. Justin got bashed. All I had to do was let him heal. Help him heal. And he did. Except he didn’t. I really thought he had. Okay, I was wrong on that one, but hell, that’s not new either. That’s why this all sucks, because none of it’s new.   
  


I’m fine. I wasn’t, not when it first happened, either time. First time it took me a couple of weeks to really get my bearings again. This time, well, it’s taking longer because Justin needed help. At least this time there was something I could do for him. Now he thinks there’s something he can do for me.   
  


There isn’t because there’s nothing wrong. Nightmares, okay, I can handle my subconscious. We have an agreement. I dope the shit out of it. It shuts the fuck up. And that’s all working fine 'til Justin starts digging around and thinking I should talk, or stop medicating it. My methods have worked this long, I’m not fucking with a system that works.  
  


So he’s trying to get me to “open up” and I really thought he knew better than that. And I’m trying to shut him up and fuck I _do_ know better than that. Nothing shuts him up. So eventually I’m going to have to explain to him why he needs to shut up. In the meantime, I’m gonna watch Gus run around on a football field with a bunch of other fifth graders. He wants to make the team so he can make junior varsity by junior high. Great, every fall Saturday for the rest of my foreseeable future spent in the bleachers. He’s my kid. He’ll get it if I’m not there for every game right?  
  


Fuck. It’s wrong to hope he doesn’t make the team. Besides, I do want him to make the team, and he’s tall, and fast, and smart, and the kid would rule as a quarterback. My son the jock. If he starts dating cheerleaders and becomes an obnoxious asshole I’m… fuck. He’s gonna be an asshole, he’s _my_ kid. All of Lindsay’s loving parenting can’t undo what my genes have imparted. Poor kid. Poor Lindz. What the fuck were we thinking?  
  


Justin’s looking at me like my hair turned green. I hand him a cigarette and he’s glaring at me now. Right, he said he’d quit if I did. I was supposed to, then… something happened. All bets are off.  
  


I park and we’re walking towards the field and if that guy blows that whistle again I’m strangling him with the cord. Okay, maybe I overdid it last night… and the night before… and the night before that but hell, I slept. I finally got five straight hours of sleep so Justin and everyone else can fuck off, my system works…eventually.  
  


Lindsay points out Gus, who, as I thought, is almost a head taller than most of the kids in his class. I shot up fast too. All knees and elbows 'til I was sixteen. Gus is gonna be the same way. He’s running and kicking and the rest of the kids are clumsy little idiots. The kid’ll make the team.  
  


Justin’s hand is hovering over mine. He wants to touch me, which is good. We’re in public, which isn’t. Not just because he’s still a little nervous around large crowds…and that includes the motley crew of parents milling about and yelling at their kids right now, but he’s still not thrilled with loud noises and that fucker will not stop blowing his goddamned whistle. I’m gonna shove it up his ass. Let’s see if he can still blow it then. Justin’s hand is resting on mine. I’m not sure if that’s for him or for me. I know I’m gritting my teeth. This was a bad idea. We should have told Gus we couldn’t make it.  
  


I turn my attention back to the field and they’re sending the kids out to go long. Gus runs and the ball’s heading towards him. He sees me and waves. I wave back but I want to yell at him to watch the fucking ball. I won’t yell. I won’t be one of those parents. Then again I won’t let him slack off on the field either… fuck. There is no way to do this right. I see it in slow motion.   
  


The ball is heading towards him and two kids with yellow vests are headed towards him. He sees the ball and jumps up to catch it. The kids are determined to go for the sack, and they do. Gus is knocked down hard, the ball lands on his helmet. Gus isn’t moving. Lindsay’s running onto the field and I think I’m about to throw up. I… fuck, he’s bleeding. Oh holy fuck. I stand up and I think my knees are about to give out. I’m heading towards the car. I have to get out of here. I get in and Justin’s pulling the keys out of the ignition. I forgot he was here. I…   
  


“Gus is fine. He just split his lip.”  
  


I nod. I know he’s fine. I just can’t be here right now.  
  


Justin pushes at my shoulder. “Move over I’m driving.”  
  


I shake my head but he’s got my keys. I get out of the car and I can feel his eyes on me as I walk around it and get into the passenger side. He adjusts the seat for his midget stature and pulls out.   
  


I fiddle with the radio. Smart kid, he’s not saying a word.  
  


We cross the bridge and I watch his knuckles turn white. He hates driving in the city. “Drop me off at the office.”  
  


He shoots me a look and don’t say a word but twenty minutes later we’re in front of the building. I get out and head upstairs. He doesn’t ask when I’ll be home. Like I said, smart kid.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian unlocked the door and moved through the quiet halls to his office. He stopped at the doorway.   
  


“Something I need to know?”  
  


Ted looked up from the work in front of him. “Brian, hi.”  
  


“What are you doing here? Never mind. Get out of my chair.”  
  


Ted stood up, taking one of the boards with him and frowning at it. He sat on the sofa against the wall and spread out some of the papers he’d been working on.  
  


Brian was shuffling things on his desk but couldn’t find what he was looking for. “Do you have the Gilman-Ross contract?  
  


Ted didn’t say a word, just held up a sheaf of papers.   
  


“I need them.”  
  


Ted looked up and Brian sighed audibly. That expression, he knew that fucking expression. “You sure you know what you need?”  
  


“Fuck off, Ted. I need to go over the contracts.”  
  


Ted walked towards Brian. He stood across from him, the desk between them. “I’ll do it. Why don’t you just go home?”  
  


“Give me the contracts.”   
  


Ted handed them over. “What’s really going on?”  
  


Brian looked up at Ted, expressionless. “Theodore, I’d have thought you, with all your therapy would have figured it out by now.”  
  


Ted didn’t say a word.   
  


“I’m working.”  
  


“Thought you were at Gus’s little-league tryouts.”  
  


“Pee-wee football. We left early.”  
  


“You went with Justin?”  
  


Brian didn’t deign to answer. Ted sighed and pressed on. “Cynthia called.”  
  


“What got fucked up now?”  
  


“You.”  
  


Brian looked up quickly. “She’s worried about you Bri. So what’s going on?”  
  


Brian’s expression didn’t change. “Well, Aaron got bashed, Justin broke again, I’m not supposed to feel a damn thing about it and I can’t stop dreaming of blood. What’s new with you?”  
  


Ted sat down. “Nightmares?”  
  


Brian shrugged and picked up a board from the far side of the desk pulling it in front of him. He glanced at it briefly and put it aside.   
  


“Don’t you want to give me one of your happy little twelve step motto’s?”  
  


Ted shook his head. “Not your thing. But who says you’re not supposed to feel anything?”  
  


Brian didn’t look up from the contract he was studying. “Nothing happened to me. Not my issue.”  
  


“Really, so you’re just back to managing your pain the old fashioned way?”  
  


“Who said anything about pain.”  
  


“Brian, I know you don’t want to hear this.”  
  


“Then don’t say it.”  
  


“Look, I’m willing to risk getting fired but I have to tell you we’re worried.”  
  


“We?”  
  


“Cynthia, me, Justin.”  
  


“You’ve talked to Justin?”  
  


Ted shook his head. “Cynthia called me. I can extrapolate from there.”  
  


“Cynthia’s maternal instinct must be kicking in.”  
  


“She’s worried about you and the company, Brian.”  
  


“KinnetiK’s fine.”  
  


“Really? The president and CEO works five hour days, half of which he spends asleep on his sofa, and even when he’s awake he’s not paying attention. Sounds like a great business plan.”  
  


“Theodore, go home.”  
  


Ted nodded and pushed a board towards Brian. “You approved this.”  
  


Brian drew his lips together and studied it carefully. He frowned. “This is shit.”  
  


“So how’s that fine thing going?”  
  


“Go home Ted.”  
  


“You too Brian.” Ted pushed the board a little closer to him and left. He’d booked a hotel, he’d be back tomorrow, and Monday, and as long as it took Brian to get his head back in the game… Brian knew that. He also knew his head wasn’t in the game.  
  


He picked the board up and studied it. He shook his head. The composition was all wrong. The colors were flat. The text was in the wrong font. His signature was on the bottom. He’d approved it. He threw the board across the room and banged his head against the desk. He didn’t feel it.  
  


He balled his fists tightly and he didn’t feel that either. He actually pinched his leg. Nothing. This numb thing… he reached for his cell phone. It wasn’t in his pocket. He checked his jacket pocket. Nope. Fuck, he’d left it on the charger. He never went anywhere without his phone. He was… he was falling apart.  
  


He walked over to the wet bar and poured himself a drink. He examined his face in the mirror. He looked like shit. His eyes were red, and red rimmed. He needed a shave. He looked tired. He looked…old.   
  


He sat down on the sofa wearily and tried to figure out what the fuck was wrong. This hadn’t happened to him. Justin got hurt. Not him. He could help Justin…this time. He… he had helped Justin this time. And Aaron, he could help Aaron. They needed help. He didn’t. Nothing had happened to him.   
  


Justin liked to tell him that it wasn’t his fault. He knew that. He would never hit Justin with a bat. No matter how angry he was or how many times the kid forgot to pick up the dry cleaning. That was Chris Hobbes. That was… it didn’t happen to him.  
  


So if it didn’t happen to him, why the fuck was he the one with the nightmares? If it didn’t happen to him, why the fuck was he the one who needed to stay numb?   
  


He closed his eyes and scrubbed his face with his hands. Images flashed behind his eyes. He opened his eyes but the memories were there. Three days. Three days he barely remembered. He must have eaten something. Must have slept for a few minutes. Michael. He remembered Michael being there. Constantly being there. There was a doctor, and some news and Justin wasn’t dead. He went home. Michael took him home. Must have put him to bed. Must have brought him clothes in the hospital. But he slept. Slept because he didn’t have a choice. His body shut down and he slept. He woke up with every intention of going back to the hospital. He never did. Not during daylight.   
  


It was easier. It didn’t happen to him, what the fuck could he do? What the fuck could he do about any of it? What the fuck had he done? He knew what he’d done.   
  


Brian felt sick and moved quickly to the bathroom vomiting back the alcohol his system needed to maintain this numbness.   
  


He’s stayed away until he couldn’t anymore. Every night he told himself he would not end up back at the hospital. He did. But only to make sure the kid wasn’t dead. To make sure. Then he left. Went home, went to work, went to Babylon. It was easy. Easy to stay numb. Easier than it should have been to cut the kid out of his life that neatly. Except the body can’t remember pain. If it could no woman would have more than one child. So the body can’t remember pain. Was it easy?  
  


If it was easy then, why isn’t it easy now to forget? Forgetting about something that didn’t happen to him should be easy.   
  


It didn’t happen to him. None of this had happened to him. There was no way this was his fault.  
  


The numbness was gone now and Brian felt the pain wash over him… it wasn’t warm, it was hot. Needles, shards, sharp stabs of white-hot pain.   
  


He put his head back and his feet up and tried to concentrate on something other than the fact that he was pretty sure he was having a heart attack. No numbness in his left arm, no spreading pain to his jaw. Not a heart attack. Panic. Panic attack. Bullshit. Brian Kinney doesn’t do panic attacks. He almost laughed then. Brian Kinney is fucking guaranteed to do whatever it is he most adamantly denies doing. Exhibit A. Justin. Exhibit B. Justin. Exhibit C…   
  


Justin. What the fuck had he been doing? How fucking pissed was the kid right now? How worried? How… fuck. Brian felt himself start to cry. He closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and refused to allow it. Refused to allow any of this. NOTHING HAD HAPPENED TO HIM!   
  


He was just… there. He was a bystander in Justin’s tragedy. He was an interested observer. He hadn’t been hurt.  
  


His mind was racing and he needed more scotch but his stomach roiled at the thought.  
  


Brian closed his eyes. He gave up. He gave in. He surrendered to it for a minute. It took too much energy to fight it and he had to do this. He had to do this alone. This was not something anyone could help him with. Not Michael, not Ted, sure as hell not Justin. This had happened to Justin. Not to him. It was NOT Justin's job to make this better. It was not Justin’s responsibility. It was… it was wrong to ask him to. It was wrong to want him to. He wanted him to. He wanted Justin’s absolution. And rationally he knew he had it.  
  


Fuck. That clawing at his chest again. Rationality had nothing to do with this. Brian let the tears flow. In his locked office with the blinds closed. He silently wept for the lost boy that he’d been. For the chance that he’d taken and the pain it had caused.  
  


He silently wept for himself. For what he could have had if Chris Hobbes hadn’t bashed it. Things would have been better. Things might have been easier. And he let himself, for the first time, hurt. Not for Justin. Not for what had been taken from Justin, his memory of the prom, his hand, his faith in the world. He wept for what he’d lost.  
  


Hours later he woke up. Still tired. He stumbled out of the office and hailed a cab.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin’s POV  
  


Gus is fine. I called and Lindsay gave him some lame excuse about why we had to leave. I gave Lindsay some lame excuse about why we left. She didn’t buy it. She knows something’s wrong. I know something’s wrong. The only one who doesn’t seem to think something’s wrong is Brian. And he’s what’s wrong.   
  


Maybe he really did have work to do at the office. I’m sure he can always find something to do there. He… he’s not okay. I want to figure out what exactly is wrong but all I know is that he’s stopped responding. That blank thing he used to do all the time, the thing he can do on demand. It’s not on demand anymore. It’s automatic, it’s… he’s gone. He’s been gone for a while. I think I missed it. I was too tied up in my own bullshit to notice that he wasn’t really there. Then again…maybe he left when I came back…yeah, I was a little gone too.  
  


But he’s… he’s the walking dead. He won’t talk to me about it. He doesn’t think I should be responsible for helping him. Thinks it’s selfish to need my help about this. Thinks this only happened to me. He knows it happened to him…well, feels it. But Brian likes to ignore what he feels. Likes to ignore anything that fucks with his worldview.   
  


His worldview involves him being unfeeling and invincible. So, feeling this, admitting that the bashing hurt him. Never gonna happen. But it has to happen. He can’t keep this up. He’s killing himself. Not on purpose, but he can’t stand his own thoughts. I see it. A flash, almost unnoticeable but I’ve been watching pretty carefully. Don’t know what it’s a flash of, but it is followed immediately by a bump, or a drink or both. He’s playing with alphabet soup more than I’ve ever seen him.   
  


He’s good. He’s really good at self-medicating but is anyone that good?  
  


I’ve been painting for a couple of hours and he’s still not home. He may not come home tonight. The baths, or a club, or more likely just passing out on the sofa at KinnetiK. I want him home. I call his cell and hear it ring. Fuck. He left it here. He never leaves his phone. He’s… he’s falling apart. He’s forgetting shit… like his phone.   
  


I call the KinnetiK office but it goes straight to voicemail. I’m gonna go there. I’m worried. I’m looking for my shoes when I hear the door.  
  


He’s standing there. He looks… well, the blank thing is gone. He’s… oh Christ. I move towards him. I want to hug him. I want to touch him. It’ll be okay. He looks at me and the pain I see… he’s… it hurts to look at him. His head is bobbing like he’s trying not to cry, or not to remember and I try to touch him but he flinches away.   
  


Nope, he wouldn’t let me get away with that shit and I’m not taking no for an answer. I move closer and I wrap my arms around him. He’s not moving. Not holding me. Not touching me but he’s letting me touch him.  
  


I lead him to bed and he’s… docile. He’s like a wounded animal though. He’s almost growls when I run my hand down his back. He curls up and I curl around him and I can feel his body moving a little and I think he’s crying. I’m not even sure if he knows he’s doing it. He doesn’t smell like scotch. Shouldn’t he be drunk? I don’t know if he is. It’s hard to tell these days. He’s always altered. Right now, I think he might just be… broken.  
  


I squeeze tighter and I swear to Christ he whimpers and I am NOT going to cry. Not while my face is pressed against his back. Not while he needs me. And he does. And I’m here. And that’s all I can give him right now. And I can only hope it’s enough.  
  


 


	8. Chapter 8

Safe Keeping 8

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Eight   


* * *

  
  


 

Justin’s eyes fluttered open. His body was stiff. He was wrapped around Brian and for a brief panicked moment he couldn’t feel his breathing. He rested his head against Brian’s back and heard the reassuring thumping of his heart. He willed himself not to cry. Mentally recognized what a silly faggot he was being and slid quietly out of bed to shower. Brian didn’t move.  
  


When Justin walked back into the bedroom. Towel around his waist, his hair wet, Brian’s eyes flickered open. Justin moved closer to him running a hand through Brian’s hair. He shut his eyes again and pretended to go back to sleep. Justin grabbed his laptop from the dresser and sat back in bed resting it on his knees.   
  


He knew Brian was awake. He knew Brian would like to ignore last night, ignore the past few days. They’d done that once before, ignored Brian’s reaction to all of this. And now, ten years later, they seemed to be back to the beginning. They were gonna do it right this time. Even if Brian kicked and screamed and denied there was anything wrong. Justin was determined not to continue making the same mistakes over and over again.   
  


He sent an email to Cynthia, risking Brian’s wrath. He got an immediate reply that Ted was in town and it as all covered. Justin closed his eyes and tried to figure out how best to react.  
  


It must have gotten bad at the office if Cynthia had called in reinforcements. Did Brian know? Had Ted been there yesterday? How long had Ted been there? How long had Brian been spiraling this badly?  
  


Justin reached over unthinkingly and stroked Brian’s hair again. He felt Brian’s body tense. He moved his hand down Brian’s shoulder and along his arm. Brian moved, ostensibly in his sleep, further away from Justin.  
  


Justin checked the rest of his email. One from Molly, a joke Aaron had forwarded to him, one from Daphne with pictures of the baby. one from Gus, two from Martin. Fuck, he’d forgotten he had an appointment tomorrow. A gallery owner with some serious clout who had just been someone’s assistant when they’d first met wanted to see his portfolio. Was interested in his work.   
  


He debated and realized that two hours of espresso and bullshit with this guy probably wouldn’t kill any of them. Today was Sunday. Brian couldn’t possibly plan on going back to the office today. And if he did… Justin would talk him out of it. He had to…   
  


He still wasn’t sure what he had to do. Brian apparently gave up on the illusion of sleep and sat up slowly as if he were physically sore.   
  


“Morning.”  
  


Brian grunted and Justin reached out to run a hand along his thigh.   
  


“You okay?”  
  


“I now understand fully why you hate that question.”  
  


“You were…”  
  


“Rough night.”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


Brian turned and swung his legs off the bed. “I’ve got shit to do in the office.” He stood up.  
  


“Ted’ll take care of it.”  
  


Brian seemed to freeze. Justin watched the muscles in Brian’s back become more pronounced as his frame stiffened. “Who said Ted was in town?”  
  


“Cynthia.”  
  


“So all three of my mommies are sitting around deciding what’s best for me?” Brian turned and Justin almost physically recoiled from the anger in his expression.  
  


“Fuck you. I emailed Cynthia to let her know you were taking a couple of days off, which, by the way, you are. She told me it Ted was in town and she’d make sure everything would be covered. Contrary to your opinion, we have more to do all day than sit around and think about you.”  
  


Brian didn’t say a word. Justin heard the shower start and sighed. He closed his computer and went to make some coffee. Lord knows they both needed it.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


FUCK! I’ve got to get the hell out of here. Lashing out at Justin because I’m pissed off at Chris fucking Hobbes? Bad plan. Maybe I need to go away. Really away. Someplace warm, with melted lollipop rum things and no little blonde twink to drink them. Someplace where… where I’m not me. Not this me. This me has too many fucking strings attached. This me is a fucking marionette.  
  


I’ll book it myself. Fuck Cynthia. Calling Ted? How is that within her job description?  
  


I’ll book it as soon as I’ve had some coffee. A week, ten days… two weeks. That’s what I need. Two weeks in… anywhere but here. Get my head together. Get myself together. Get a tan. Get laid. I’m leaving tomorrow.  
  


I pull on jeans and a shirt and pour myself some coffee and I feel him looking at me. What? Am I supposed to thank him for the fucking coffee? Whoever gets up first makes it…that’s the deal Sunshine. He’s still looking at me. But he’s not angry. He’s waiting for something but I’m not sure what. He’s not stupid enough to be waiting for an apology or an explanation, he knows me too well for that.  
  


I take a sip and watch him and I realize he’s waiting for me to crack again. He’s waiting for me to fucking break.  
  


Nope. Not here. Not in front of him. Not anywhere, not ever again. Okay, so I got a little maudlin last night. Happens. But I’m over it. I finish my coffee and pour another one. I move it to the table and bring over my laptop. He sits next to me.  
  


“Why don’t you take the day off, completely off? No work.”  
  


Now’s as good a time as any. “I’m not working, I’m leaving.”  
  


I don’t look up but I hear the change in his breathing. I feel his entire body still. I close my eyes and shake my head. Fuck, I thought he knew me better than that. I turn the computer so he can see the screen. “Not looking for a new apartment. Just taking a trip. Couple of weeks.”  
  


His face seems paler than a moment ago. He looks up and he’s about to cry, what the fuck?   
  


“Ibiza?”  
  


Oh holy hell, I forgot. I shake my head and I pull him forward, kissing his temple. “No. Jesus, no. I really do need to get the fuck out of here.”  
  


He nods once and his hand is flat against my chest. He does that sometimes, just absorbs my heartbeat. Freaks me out. Makes him feel better so I let him. “I’m fine.”  
  


He shakes his head and pulls away from me. “You are so far from fine you can’t even see it from where you are.”  
  


I put my tongue in my cheek and do that leering smile thing. “I can see you.”  
  


He rolls his eyes but it’s like this little rote memory game we play sometimes. He doesn’t really feel it right now. Neither do I. He’s hot. Yeah. But he’s not aggravated or amused. He’s worried. That’s why I need to get away. If I’m gonna face this for a day or two, I need to do it without him worrying.  
  


I find my credit card information so I can start to book the trip and he closes the machine quickly. “No.”  
  


“Fuck you.”  
  


“Later. No.”  
  


“Justin.” I need him to get this but he’s got that expression that puts up big orange cones around the conversation. He’s putting his foot down. Fuck that.  
  


“Brian…”  
  


“Don’t. I’m going.” I’ll just go to the airport and book the first flight available if I have to. I go to open the laptop but his hand is flat across the top, his fingers splayed and he’s not having it.   
  


I take another sip of my coffee and lean back in the chair. I’m not having a physical struggle with a gimp over the use of my laptop. If he wants to give me a valid reason I’ll listen. If he can’t come up with one, I win.  
  


“Going away won’t solve a god damned thing. And if you bury this all under drugs and sex and too much rum it might take ten more years before it comes back up.”  
  


I nod. That’s the plan. I’m not sure where he thinks he’s gonna get with this argument. Buying ten more years with some good drugs and hot guys sounds like the perfect solution to me.  
  


“I know you think that sounds like an ideal solution.”  
  


Stupid twat thinks he knows me. I’m just staring at him not giving a thing away.  
  


“It’s not Brian. For once, just trust me and let me help you.”  
  


For once? For fucking once? I’m gonna throttle the kid. I’ve put my trust in him more times than I can count. He’s given me reason to far more than he’s ever let me down. But he doesn’t know shit about this. He shouldn’t. This isn’t his job. I just shake my head. He takes it wrong.  
  


“Fuck you. Trust me. I need you here. I need you to get better. I need it Brian, for me. For me, I need you to be okay.”  
  


Goddamned little twat. He does know me, and what do I do with that? He’s not saying it to manipulate me. He needs to feel like we both got past this. He wants to see some sort of breakthrough. That can’t happen. I can deal with the pain. I can take the slow and torturous dissecting of my psyche, but I can NOT let him know what a selfish prick I am.  
  


I can’t let him know that my pain isn’t about him. I can’t… I can’t even think about what a fucking asshole I am. He gets hurt, he loses almost everything and I’m upset because I didn’t get laid that night? I’m grieving over something I couldn’t lose because I never had it in the first place?  
  


Bullshit. No. Okay, now I need to get away and figure out how to spin this. How can I show him progress without letting him know what a fucking basket case self-centered fucker I really am?  
  


I stand up and grab my wallet, keys and phone. “I’m out of here.”  
  


“Brian.”  
  


I turn to look at him and he looks so lost I want to reassure him. But I can’t make any promises right now. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.  
  


“I’ll be back, Justin.”  
  


“When?”  
  


Fuck. I have no clue. “Soon.”  
  


He opens his mouth and closes it again. There’s no way to ask further without sounding like a nagging housewife and he knows it. He’s afraid if he does sound like a nagging housewife soon will be changed to something even less concrete. He nods. I look at him again and expect to see tears, or resignation. I don’t. He’s angry. Angry is good. He should be angry.  
  


I close the door behind me and realize as I get out of the elevator and head to the street that I have no fucking idea where I’m going.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**

Justin's POV  
  


FUCK HIM! I take the coffee cups to the sink and I really want to throw them across the room. I leave them there without rinsing them out. Let him come home and find the bottoms brown and rings around the inside. He hates that…fuck. Just let him come home.  
  


He thinks he needs time away. Okay, I kinda get that except he’s wrong. He _wants_ time away. What he needs is to do something. I’m not sure what though. I did something he’d fucking kill me for if he found out. I actually researched it. Not just online. I’ve been to every bookstore in the city. I’ve bought, and hidden, more self help books and psych books on PTSD and Trauma in general than I know what to do with. If Brian ever looks in the space under the window seat in my office his head will explode.  
  


Then again… his head’s about to explode anyway. Where the fuck did he go?  
  


I thought we were making progress. I thought last night was some kind of breakthrough but I should have fucking known better. Brian Kinney, two steps forward, drag himself and everyone else three steps back. So now he won’t talk at all. Now he’s leaving.  
  


Christ. My gut clenches at the thought. Not just because it reminds me a little too much of Ibiza but because he can’t fucking leave.  
  


I asked him not to. I told him I needed him to stay. Manipulative? Hell yes. But I learned from the master. True? Hell yes, and that’s from me. Brian Kinney doesn’t lie…Pfft.   
  


He lies all the fucking time… just not when it’s to his advantage to tell the truth. He manages to make lying seem noble and being brutally honest seem like an admirable quality. There are ways to be honest without the brutality asshole.  
  


There are ways to tell the truth even if you think they’re making you lie.   
  


Where the fuck is he? I’d say I can’t believe he left but of course I can. It’s classic. And he’s regressing. I’ve been watching for a while. He’s gonna be fifteen and starting a band with Michael next week if I don’t get him to cut it the fuck out.   
  


I can’t get him to do anything, especially if he won’t talk to me. And he won’t talk to me. And he’s not talking to me because he’s hiding something. I’m not that stupid. Whatever happened last night…it was big. Something hit him hard, and he doesn’t want to tell me about it.  
  


He thinks if he tells me I’ll get hurt. How do I know that? Because that’s the only reason he ever keeps anything from me. Well, that and sometimes he thinks It’ll change the way I think about him…which is totally fucked but he still has no clue how on to him I am. Really seriously, no fucking clue.  
  


I think he thinks I still idolize him like I did when I was seventeen. Eleven fucking years ago… and I’m still supposed to just go mooney eyed and buy his bullshit. Nope. I’ve seen him break down. I’ve seen him break every rule he’s ever had. I’ve seen the man behind the curtain and I like him better than the stupid Gayopolis saving hero any day. He doesn’t always get that.  
  


So what happened last night? What is it he’s trying to hide? Is he protecting me or himself?  
  


I want to go to the studio but I sit on the floor and lift the lid to the window seat, pulling out my hidden stash of books. I’m chewing on the end of a highlighter and trying to figure out what to do next.  
  


I know traditional therapy isn’t the answer, but maybe if I can just find somewhere to start.  
  


 

> PTSD is a serious psychological condition and the most common psychiatric diagnosis that a person can be given as a result of experiencing or witnessing a traumatic event. PTSD may develop when a person exposed to traumatic events reacts with intense fear, helplessness, or horror). Typical adaptations or reactions of PTSD are: reliving the experience through nightmares and/or flashbacks, having difficulty sleeping, feeling numb or detached, avoiding situations which are reminiscent of the trauma; being jumpy, nervous or being "on alert" most of the time. To avoid these painful adaptations or reactions, people sometimes engage in unhealthy or unsafe behaviors like taking drugs or drinking, having unprotected sex, or hurting themselves. These adaptations or reactions can be severe enough and last long enough to significantly impair the person's daily life. Sometimes, PTSD occurs in conjunction with other (or related) diagnosis such as depression, substance abuse, problems of memory and cognition, and other problems of physical and mental health. It may also be associated with impairment of the person's ability to function in social or family life, including occupational instability, marital problems and divorces, family discord, difficulties in parenting, and difficulty with trust and self care. 

 

Okay um, yeah, no shit. I know that. And Brian was already dealing with some serious PTSD when I met him…so… Now what?  
  


 

>  
> 
>   * Educating trauma survivors and their families about how persons develop PTSD, how PTSD affects survivors and their loved ones, and other problems that commonly accompany PTSD adaptations or reactions. **Understanding that PTSD is a medically recognized anxiety diagnosis that occurs in normal individuals under extremely stressful conditions is essential for effective treatment.**
> 

> 
>  

Great, is Brian normal? Is he gonna even accept that he’s dealing with something that happened to him. He keeps insisting it’s about me. Does he even know it’s about him now? Fuck. This won’t work.

 

 

>  
> 
>   * Exposure to the traumatic event via imagery allows the survivor to re-experience the event in a safe, controlled environment, while also carefully examining their reactions and beliefs in relation to that event. 
> 


Let’s just pass on that… or wait, isn’t that what happened? Fuck. This is too complicated. Maybe I need to go back and get a degree…but then Brian really isn’t normal. So I should take a course in abnormal psychology… Pfft. I’ve lived with Brian for this long. If I’m not an expert on abnormal psychology by now it’s never gonna happen. So examining their beliefs and reactions to the event. Let’s see. Brian believes the world hates him and it’s his fault and his reaction is to do a lot of drugs and have a lot of sex. Of course that’s his reaction to getting a flat tire or ruining a good shirt. Okay, seriously, those boring people with boring lives are starting to look a lot more interesting. Sure they don’t have the passion, but I doubt they spend Sunday afternoons doing research on the psychological ramifications of living with a man too fucked up to talk. Holy hell… is it wrong to want to curse a streetlamp?

 

>  
> 
>   * Examining and resolving strong feelings such as anger, shame, or guilt, which are common among survivors of trauma. 
> 


Oh good. Let’s try that. That’s new. Anger and guilt, lets just resolve those. That should be easy. Hell, we can do that and then grab some dinner. I’m trying not to roll my eyes at this book. How can they make it seem so simple? Oh right, they’ve never met Brian Kinney. Normal people have normal PTSD. He has Kinney brand PTSD. I think it started when he was born… it’s in his fucking DNA. It’s part of his cellular makeup. How the hell am I supposed to fix this? How is anyone?  
  


I lean back and pull the book onto my lap, highlighter ready in case I find something useful. They make PTSD for dummies. Why don’t they make PTSD for Kinneys… that would rock… and don’t tell me it won’t make millions, I’d spend millions on a single copy… I have to do this…for him…for us. Fuck. We’re both fucked.

 

>  
> 
>   * Teaching the survivor to cope with post-traumatic memories, reminders, reactions, and feelings without becoming overwhelmed or emotionally numb. Trauma memories usually do not go away entirely as a result of therapy, but become manageable with new coping skills. 
> 


New coping skills. That means replacing his old ones. Okay, you don’t actually try to take a bone away from a dog and you do NOT fuck with Brian’s alcohol, or drugs, or tricks. I’ve tried that a couple of times. Doesn’t work. Won’t work. His coping skills are inadvisable but they’ve worked this long right? I…   
  


Maybe I’m in over my head. Fuck. I’m… fuck…what’s next?

 

>  
> 
>   * For people with serious mental illness, common components of treatment for trauma-based diagnosis include education on trauma issues, skill-building programs aimed at assisting the survivor in identifying symptom triggers and self-soothing strategies. Exposure treatment, described above, is not recommended for people diagnosed with a serious mental illness, those who self- injure or are suicidal, or who are otherwise more vulnerable 
> 


Well, now I feel better. It’s only really bad if the person is mentally unbalanced or has death wish moments… so um….  
  


I throw the book, all the books back into the chest and close the lid. I rearrange the pillows and I try to think… I can’t think. I can’t… I…  
  


Fuck. Brian did this for me. He did it for me and I can’t help him. It’s not safe to help him. If I help him wrong I’ll break him more. Am I too close?  
  


He stepped in and took care of that Molly thing. I was pissed then… but he was right, I was too close. Am I too close? I’m too close. How can I be too close and feel a million miles away. How can I help if even the textbooks say it could be…  
  


But he’s not really mentally ill, and self-injury? Not really right? And when was the last time he had a death wish moment?  
  


Fuck. Who the hell knows? He promised not to act on them. I’m not gonna be the one who pushes him over the edge. I’m not gonna… I’m the only one.  
  


And now I’m alone. He’s gone, I have no idea when he’ll be back and a wave of helplessness washes over me and I’m actually drowning in it. I can’t fucking breathe. I seriously can’t… okay, just a panic attack twat. Concentrate on the feel of the pillow under my fingers. Concentrate on breathing. Watch the floor, the lines in the carpet, they’re not really moving… just focus until… okay, until I can breathe.  
  


_I_ have to do this. So, we did the whole recreation thing, not on purpose but we did it. Now what? Now… now he has to fucking come back. Where the fuck did he go?  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


I’m wandering around the bookstore because it’s attached to a Starbucks and I needed more coffee. I’m looking at travel guides trying to get ideas. I’m not actually looking in the self-help section. I’m not actually standing in front of bunch of books about PTSD because I don’t need books to tell me that I’m fine and Justin’s going to be fine.   
  


I take the Spartacus guide to Greece back to a table to peruse. And because it’s there I grab a copy of _PTSD responsive and reactive treatment guidelines_. Maybe I should grab a DSM while I’m at it and just diagnose the fuck out of the both of us. Categorize, classify, pigeon hole and then be done with it. We can both walk around and give up all responsibility for our actions by blaming them on our various disorders. I’m liking this plan more and more.  
  


Except there’s really nothing wrong with Justin, well, except that he got hit in the head with a bat and sometimes gets twitchy in public. And really, he was past that for a long time. And the only thing that’s wrong with me is that I’m a selfish bastard. So I’m a narcissist. Not news. Don’t need to read a book to know that.   
  


Kid gets hit in the head with a bat and ten years later I’m still upset about what I lost. Fuck. I’m… fuck. I leave both books and walk out. The air is getting colder and I’m not about to cry. I’m not about to fucking cry. I am not crying. So I hail a cab and I continue to not cry. And I think about going to the office but the idea gives me that same tight feeling in my chest. I give the driver our address and it takes me a minute to pull myself together enough to open the door.  
  


I’m fine. I’m fucking perfect. Nothing happened to me. I get out of the elevator and ignore Justin who looks surprised and relieved to see me. Oh, right. I was supposed to be going on a cruise to the Greek isles… what the fuck am I doing back in our apartment in New York? Good question… glad he doesn’t actually ask it. I kick off my shoes and peel off my jeans and crawl back into bed. He’s standing at the doorway and he wants to say something. I look at him…waiting. He shakes his head and turns away. I close my eyes and put all other thoughts out of my head. I’m just gonna sleep for a little bit. I’m just going to not think about… anything.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday… Justin counted them off in his mind and wondered what the fuck to do.  
  


Brian hadn’t gotten out of bed. Well, not at all on Monday. He’d managed to wander into the living room and slouch on the sofa for a couple of hours on Tuesday. It was Wednesday and Brian seemed content to wake up, swallow a Xanex or two, and roll over and take a nap.  
  


He hadn’t eaten. Justin hadn’t started nagging yet. He knew Brian was expecting the nagging but Justin was still going along with his whole “I have food poisoning” lie. God forbid Brian admit that something was actually wrong. Nope, must be the sushi. Except Justin didn’t think they’d had sushi in over a week. And Brian held down the Xanex and the scotch and the occasional glass of juice or water just fine.   
  


There was nothing wrong with Brian except everything.   
  


Justin sat on the barstool and stared into the bedroom. From this angle he could only see Brian’s feet. That was enough to cause concern. He was wearing socks.   
  


Justin had gone to the meeting with the new gallery owner. He had a show in two months. A solo show. It had been a while but they guy had always loved his work. He had a few pieces done, he needed four more. He could do that…if he wasn’t keeping an eye on Brian but he couldn’t stop. He was worried and… worried.   
  


Brian wasn’t taking Cynthia’s calls. He wasn’t taking Ted’s calls. He was barely speaking to Justin. Aaron tried to talk to him once and Brian had rolled over and gone back to sleep. Aaron shrugged and Justin tried to tell him Brian was sick. Aaron didn’t buy it any more than Justin did.   
  


On Thursday Justin decided it was time to do something. He sat down on the bed next to Brian an flicked him on the head. “Get the fuck up.”  
  


Brian mumbled something into his pillow, never opening his eyes. Justin did it again, harder. Brian glared at him and Justin glared back.  
  


“Brian. Wake. The. Fuck. Up.”  
  


“Fuck off.”  
  


“At least take a shower so I can change the sheets.”  
  


Brian ignored him. Justin grabbed the duvet and pulled. Brian’s grip was tight but Justin didn’t really fucking care if the thing tore in half. He yanked harder and Brian groaned but let go. Justin tossed it to the other side of the room. He then started throwing the pillows into the same pile. He pulled the one that was covering Brian’s face and then yanked harder at the one Brian’s head was resting on.  
  


Brian resisted and Justin tried again. Brian's fingers were gripping the piping at the edge of the pillow and Justin gave a sharp tug. The seam ripped and Brian was left with his head falling into a pile of down and feathers as Justin threw the now shredded pillow and it’s contents across the room.  
  


Justin laughed and Brian sat up, bleary eyed, feathers in his hair. “What the fuck.”  
  


“You’re sitting up, that’s a start.”  
  


“You’re fucking replacing that.”  
  


Justin nodded. “Right after you shower. Tell you what, we can go buy new pillows together.”  
  


“Fuck that.”  
  


“For a guy who was planning on going away for a couple of weeks, you’re awfully reluctant to leave the house.”  
  


“Bite me.”  
  


“Later.”  
  


“Justin.”  
  


Justin lifted an eyebrow. “Yes Brian?”  
  


Brian inhaled deeply through his nose and got up. Justin tried not to laugh at the feathers now stuck to Brian’s black underwear.   
  


He pulled the rest of the bedding from the bed and got clean sheets from the closet. He’d prefer to leave the bed unusable for a bit but he didn’t trust Brian not to just curl back up onto a bare mattress.  
  


By the time Brian got out of the shower the bed was remade, but there were no pillows on Brian’s side of the bed.   
  


Brian noticed this and gave Justin a disapproved stare. His head tilted in aggravation. Justin shrugged. “Precautions.”  
  


“Whatever.”  
  


“Get dressed.”  
  


“Fuck off.”  
  


“We’re going out.”  
  


“I’m sick.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“I’m not leaving.”  
  


“Bullshit.”  
  


Brian flopped back on the bed, on top of the duvet, arms outstretched. He grabbed one of Justin’s pillows and slid it under his head. He closed his eyes.  
  


Justin straddled his torso. He pried Brian’s eyes open. “Get up.”  
  


“I did. I took a shower. I’m recuperating.”  
  


“From what?”  
  


“Food poisoning.”  
  


“You haven’t eaten in three days. Whatever it was is gone.”  
  


Brian tried to buck Justin off of him. It didn’t work. He swatted Justin’s hands away from has face. “Justin, go paint something.”  
  


“I will. After we go out and get some lunch.”  
  


“Not hungry.”  
  


“Then we’ll just go shopping.”  
  


“We don’t need anything.”  
  


“Christ, you’re not sick, you’re dying.”  
  


“Go online, order whatever you think we need.”  
  


Justin sighed and pulled off of Brian. He didn’t get off the bed though. He moved until his head was resting on Brian’s shoulder. He threw an arm over his torso. “I need to know. I know it’s wrong and selfish of me, but I need to know what the fuck is going on.”  
  


“Nothing, the fuck, is going on.”  
  


Justin kissed Brian’s temple and then brought his head back to Brian’s shoulder. “Liar. Something happened, and you’re letting it get to you. Talk. Please.”  
  


Brian closed his eyes. “No.”  
  


Justin laid there quietly for a few minutes. He tried to figure out what to say… how best to approach this finally he went with the truth. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to push you or not.”  
  


Brian turned his head. “Huh?”  
  


“If I push you, and you’re having a death wish moment, I could lose you. If I don’t push you, you could stay this way forever.”  
  


“What way?”  
  


“Don’t. Please I just… this is hard for me Brian, and I know, I know I’m being a useless selfish faggot but I don’t know what to do next and I don’t know who to talk to about it. And I know I should be talking to you about it but you’re my best friend, and my lover and the one, maybe the only one, who really knows what happened and I need you to talk to me a little. Just a little. I promise I won’t push to hard but… Brian. Are you going away?”  
  


“Away?”  
  


“Are you leaving, I mean, on vacation, or are you seriously thinking it would be better not to wake up?”  
  


Brian sat up quickly…”what the fuck?”  
  


“You said…”  
  


“I said I was going away, on vacation. You think I’d fucking bail…I mean permanently bail, on you? On Gus? On Lindsay and Aaron? You think I’m that… fuck you. You think I’m that fucking selfish.”  
  


Justin moved behind Brian. Resting his chin on Brian’s shoulder. His arms wrapped around Brian’s waist. This was easier without eye contact. He was sure he was about to blow it but he had to try.  
  


“I don’t think you’re selfish.”  
  


Brian snorted. “You have no idea.”  
  


“I might… if you’d just…”  
  


“What?”  
  


Justin was silent for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re supposed to do. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I tried staying quiet. I tried letting you work it out for yourself. That’s not working. So I’m trying this.”  
  


“And what is _this_ exactly?”  
  


Justin shrugged against Brian’s back. “Something other than ignoring it.”  
  


Brian tried to move out of Justin’s hold but he tightened his arms and held Brian to him. “Don’t. Don’t just shut down.”  
  


Brian didn’t say anything. Justin felt Brian’s heartbeat speed up. He felt his breathing become more rapid. “Do you need to leave?” He asked it quietly. If his mouth weren’t right next to Brian’s ear he doubted the man would have heard him.  
  


“I’m not bailing.”  
  


“Are you going on vacation?”  
  


“I might.”  
  


“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”  
  


“I didn’t ask.”  
  


“Brian. What the fuck happened?”  
  


“Aaron got attacked by a couple of homophobic assholes.”  
  


“Yeah, after that.”  
  


“You had some issues.”  
  


“Yeah, I meant to you.”  
  


“Nothing.” Brian struggled again and Justin locked his hands together around Brian’s waist. “Don’t. Just… stay.”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Let me go.”  
  


Justin released his grip and Brian moved from the bed quickly, as if afraid Justin might change his mind. He was about to leave the room when Justin made one last attempt.  
  


“It’s not your fault you know.”  
  


Brian spun quickly and Justin actually flinched at the anger in his eyes. “Stop forgiving me.”  
  


“There’s nothing to forgive.”  
  


“I know that. So fucking cut it out. Stop telling me what I already know. It’s not my fucking fault. Nothing is within my control. I have no control over what anyone does to you, or me, or Aaron. It’s not. My. Fault.”  
  


Justin nodded and reached out his hand. Brian sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He leaned against the doorframe. “I don’t need your forgiveness.”  
  


Justin dropped his hand and shrugged. “You have it anyway.”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“What do you need?”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Stop it.”  
  


“Something happened Brian. Something hurt you.”  
  


Brian shook his head again. “Nothing happened to me.”  
  


Justin stood up and moved closer to Brian. He felt the tension in the air. He could practically see Brian’s body vibrating. He reached out to touch him gently and was almost surprised when he didn’t receive an electrical shock. “Something happened to you.” Justin waited a moment and moved closer. He stood on his toes and kissed Brian’s lips gently. “What happened to you?”  
  


Brian's eyes were closed and Justin could see the tears and he pulled Brian into an embrace. Brian returned it and Justin let out the breathe he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Tell me.”  
  


Brian shook his head and Justin pulled him back towards the bed. “Show me.”  
  


Brian was naked and he fell on top of Justin, his hands efficiently removing his clothes. Justin was willing, eager, and scared. He wasn’t sure. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t sure this was okay. He held on to Brian tightly as Brian reached for a condom. He wrapped his arms and legs around Brian and didn’t let go as he pushed inside him.   
  


It was rough and fast and Brian’s frustration and anger were apparent but his hands were so soft, so gentle as he reached behind him and unclasped Justin’s hands. Pulled their bodies apart just a bit and stroked his face. He ran his thumb over Justin’s lips. Ran a hand down Justin’s torso. Carded his fingers through his hair.   
  


Justin felt his orgasm build and he opened his mouth, sucking Brian’s thumb into it. He angled his body further and felt Brian sink even deeper into him. He felt the moment Brian let go. Felt him bury his head into the crook of Justin’s neck and they came together. Both sweating and panting and stroking one another. Brian lifted his head and kissed Justin and Justin knew whatever they had to do next…this was the right thing to do.  
  


They stayed like that for a while. Brian still inside Justin. Justin’s hands roaming Brian’s back. One leg wrapped around Brian’s. His foot resting against Brian’s calf. He almost didn’t hear Brian when he mumbled into the pillow. He lay perfectly still, afraid to even breathe. “I’m selfish.”  
  


Justin laughed then. He didn’t mean to but he did. Brian looked up at him. And the pain he saw in Brian’s eyes killed the humor immediately. “You’re really not.”  
  


Brian shook his head. “If you knew… just… I’d just… it’s really better if you don’t know.”  
  


Justin nodded. “I disagree.”  
  


Brian tried to pull off of Justin, pull out of him but Justin’s arms were around him and his ankles were now crossed around Brian’s thighs. “If I knew what?”  
  


“Me.”  
  


“I do know you.”  
  


“You know what I show you.”  
  


Justin bit his lip not to laugh, or possibly cry. “Do you really believe that? Do you honestly think that I’ve just been going along and buying your bullshit for all these years?”  
  


Brian tried to move, and Justin held him still again. “You haven’t?”  
  


“Shut up. You know I haven’t. Or you did last week.”  
  


“That was a long time ago.”  
  


Justin used his leverage to roll them over. He was on top of Brian now and sat up, resting his ass on the man’s thighs. He pulled off and discarded the used condom and then turned his attention to more pressing matters. “Have you completely lost your fucking mind?”  
  


Brian nodded and smirked and Justin shook his head. “I think I need a twelve step program just to deal with you. You’re making me insane.”  
  


“You came that way. I didn’t make you anything but horny.”  
  


“Oh my fucking god. Do you realize that I hate you and that all this stupid humor is not going to get you out of telling me why you think you’re selfish for being sad that a good night was ruined by a really heinous act of violence?”  
  


Brian flinched. And Justin looked at him closely. “What?”  
  


Brian shook his head. “It was more than a night.”  
  


“Yeah I guess it was. It was a couple of months.”  
  


Brian nodded. “Yeah, months.”  
  


“How long was it?”  
  


Brian shook his head. Justin leaned forward and turned his head so that their eyes met. “I can’t believe what a useless endeavor this is. But I’m not stopping this time. Fucking talk to me.”  
  


“It was a lifetime.”  
  


Justin sat back, confused. “Huh?”  
  


Brian reached his hands up and Justin slid his fingers between Brian’s. “This. We could have had this a lot sooner if…”  
  


“Because you loved me.”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


Justin laughed.  
  


Brian squeezed his hand tighter.  
  


“Brian, we were… we were destined for misery. We weren’t two ships passing in the night. We were two ships heading for the same iceberg at high speed. We were an accident waiting to happen. We were…”  
  


“A train wreck?”  
  


“Something like that.”  
  


“But we didn’t have to be.”  
  


Justin did his best not to roll his eyes. He failed. “Okay, listen. This is seriously the most fucked up romantic bullshit I’ve ever heard, and the fact that it’s coming from you is just creeping me the fuck out.  
  


“If Chris Hobbes hadn’t hated me. Not us, by the way, me. If he hadn’t swung that bat. I would have gone back to the prom with Daphne I guess. I would have probably come back to the loft to fuck you that night. And then you would have panicked SOONER about how much you fucking cared about me. You would have pushed me harder. You would have been meaner. And I would have run. I would have come to my senses faster and run further and we would not be here having this idiotic conversation, because I would be that twinkie that had a thing for you. And you’d chuckle when you thought about how stupid you were to go to my prom. And how ridiculously romantic it was. And you’d…”  
  


Brian pulled him forward and kissed him. “Shut the fuck up.”  
  


Justin kissed Brian back. Then he stretched his legs and fit his legs between Brian’s hips. “You really think you’re selfish because you’re upset that we lost something that night?”  
  


Brian raised an eyebrow. “You make it sound like we dodged a bullet.”  
  


“What the fuck do I know? I have brain damage.”  
  


“It would have been different.”  
  


“Of course. If I’d said yes to the first hot guy who offered to take me home that night things would have been different.”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“It happened Brian. It wasn’t random. What happened to Aaron was random. But none of it was your fault, and none of it got in our way.”  
  


Brian rolled them both over until he was on top of Justin. “It got in the way.”  
  


Justin nodded. “Okay, it got in the way a little. But…”  
  


“It probably shouldn’t have taken me four more years to admit I loved you.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“I do though.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“You’re still not better.”  
  


“Neither are you.”  
  


“So who’s gonna fuck whom better this time?”  
  


Justin smiled. “I think it’s my turn.”   
  


Brian kissed him back and reached for a condom packet. “When you’re done. We need to go buy more pillows.”  
  


“Shut up.”  
  


“Yes dear.”  
  


  
  


  
  


 


	9. Chapter 9

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Nine   


* * *

 

 

 

Brian’s POV  
  


I look at the clock; it’s almost four in the morning. I’ve been asleep for hours. Justin’s curled around me like he’s afraid I’m gonna take off in the middle of the night if he doesn’t hold me here. Smart kid.   
  


I still have an overwhelming urge to get out of here. I still really need to figure some shit out and he’s not helping. He’s trying to. He always tries. I’ll give him that. He’s fucking tenacious, rabid-pit-bull-tenacious. He pushed hard yesterday. Harder than I thought he would. Harder than I should have let him. Now what? Fuck. I light a cigarette. Not because I even want one that much, but because it’s something to do that isn’t walking out the door.  
  


I want to bolt. Not permanently but yesterday was too much. Last week was too much. It’s getting too close. It’s getting… dangerous. That’s the word that keeps running through my head. Fucking dangerous. He’s… what? It’s too late to push him away… that ship has sailed. We’re already fucked. I’m just gonna shower and go in to work. Get some shit accomplished, see how badly Ted’s fucked things up in my absence. I start to move and Justin’s arm tightens around me. I glace over but he’s not awake. It’s instinctive. I lift his arm carefully. Kiss his shoulder and pull on a pair of sweat pants. It’s early. A little quality time with some coffee might help me figure out what my next move is. Whatever it is… it’s got to be carefully planned and I can’t tip my hand. If he sees it coming he’ll pull a stunt like last week and I can’t have that.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian started making the coffee and noticed Aaron sitting on the sofa watching TV with the sound muted. He poured two cups, filled Aaron's with that flavored creamer the kid liked and joined him.  
  


Aaron took the cup wordlessly, took a sip and put it on the table in front of them.  
  


“Shouldn’t you be wearing your brace?”  
  


Aaron shrugged. “They told me yesterday I didn’t have to wear it if I was just sitting or moving from one room to another.”   
  


Brian nodded and mentally cursed himself. Aaron was still hurting and he’d been ignoring him. Fucking selfish bastard that he was. “That’s good.”  
  


Aaron nodded and turned his attention back to the soundless movements on the television.  
  


“Can’t sleep?”  
  


“Sleep all the time, after about eighteen hours I have to get out of that room.”  
  


“Where’s Lee?”  
  


“Probably at home asleep.”  
  


“Thought he was staying here.”  
  


“Not anymore. I’m fine now.”  
  


“You look it.”  
  


“You too.”  
  


Brian wanted to say something but what? They both looked like shit. At least Aaron had a right to.   
  


“You feeling any better?”  
  


“Yeah, food poisoning sucks.”  
  


“Probably does. Not what was wrong with you though.”  
  


“I was sick.”  
  


“Not with food poisoning.”  
  


“You really are Justin’s brother.”  
  


“Yeah, but that’s not how I know this. We both know you.”  
  


Brian tried not to roll his eyes. He closed them instead.  
  


“We do. You think I don’t know you’re seriously fucked up? You think I don’t know you were having one of those things again… those um… what does Justin call them? Death wish moments.”  
  


“Bullshit.”  
  


“I was there last time.”  
  


“Not what happened last time either.”  
  


“Brian, I really don’t care how much you want to lie to yourself but I’m so fucking tired of everyone lying to me. Just cut it out.”  
  


“Not lying.”  
  


“Whatever. You totally wanted to die.”  
  


“Aaron.” Brian’s tone had a tinge of anger and he cleared his throat as if that might fix it.  
  


“Brian, just… if you’re gonna leave… just… Christ. I get it, just… you’ll kill Justin.”  
  


“I’m not leaving.”  
  


“Good.”  
  


“You get it?”  
  


“Didn’t used to. Get it now.”  
  


“Having a death wish moment yourself?”  
  


Aaron played with the zipper on his sweatshirt. “No. Just get the whole, who cares if I wake up thing today.”  
  


“Stop taking so many pills at once, it’s warping your mind.”  
  


“Whatever. Stop fucking with Justin.”  
  


“Not.”  
  


“Are. You may not see it but you totally are.”  
  


“Aaron.” That anger thing again.  
  


“Brian, he’s… have you looked at him lately? He’s as fucking lost as you are. I thought it was about me for a while but it’s not. Neither of you have even noticed me in weeks. Whatever this is about…”  
  


“Shut the fuck up.”  
  


“No. I’m not Justin. I’m not afraid you’re gonna shut down and run.”  
  


“You’re that sure I won’t?”  
  


“No, I’m that sure I can get by without you.”  
  


“So can Justin.”  
  


“Pfft.”  
  


“I’m not bailing.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


Brian raised an eyebrow.   
  


Aaron turned on the video console and started a game. He handed Brian a controller. “You might take off. You’ll come back.”  
  


Brian didn’t say anything. He beat the hell out of some street punks who were trying to get near the car. Then he hit the right buttons to get several more weapons.  
  


“That’s cheating.”  
  


“Only because I thought of it first. If you’ve got an arsenal, use it.”  
  


Aaron bit down on his tongue in concentration as he hit the buttons in the right order. “Ha!”  
  


They fought side by side for a while and suddenly Aaron’s character tuned on him. He pulled a weapon. Brian pulled one as well and they were dancing around one another, beating each other bloody. They both ended up dead. Aaron was actually breathing hard when the game concluded. Brian looked at him, really looked at him.  
  


His face was pale. The dark red scar that ran from his temple down the side of his face and around his ear was more pronounced and turning from deep red to almost purple. His lips looked blue.  
  


“Aaron. Hey!”  
  


Aaron looked towards Brian. His mouth open, gasping for breath. Brian moved to Aaron’s room quickly and found his inhaler sitting on the bedside. When he handed it to Aaron he noticed that the blue cap was pretty much the same color as his lips. A few seconds later Aaron was breathing normally again.  
  


“Sorry.”  
  


“All your fault.”  
  


“I forgot to bring it out here.”  
  


“Getting these often?”  
  


“Hadn’t had one in a while before um… the... Before.”  
  


“Keep that with you then.”  
  


Aaron nodded and his hand went into the pockets of his sweatpants. He swallowed a couple of pills dry. “Hip hurts.”  
  


Brian nodded and didn’t say anything else. He went to the kitchen to pour himself some more coffee. He faced away from Aaron and tried to pull himself together. His desire to just walk out was completely overridden at this point with his need to fix this. They’d just… they’d handed Aaron off to Lee and practically forgotten about him. He was struggling.  
  


Brian added it to the ever-increasing list things that proved what a selfish man he was and turned around. He was going to beat Aaron at some other game but Aaron’s eyes were already heavy and he seemed to be slouching deeper into the sofa.  
  


He tapped him lightly on the back of his head. “Go to bed.”  
  


Aaron shook his head and Brian held his crutches out to him. Grudgingly Aaron moved back to his room. Brian had a feeling he’d be asleep within minutes.  
  


He had a feeling he was done sleeping for quite a while. He moved towards the bedroom quietly and found what he was looking for in the nightstand. Took a quick hit, and then another. He was alert now. He showered and dressed and was about to leave for work when Justin moved faster and stood in front of the door.  
  


“Cut it the fuck out.”  
  


“Don’t go to work today.”  
  


Brian slid his arm around Justin’s waist and pulled him close. Then he turned his body and reached for the doorknob.  
  


“The office will survive one more day without you. We still never bought new pillows, and you need more sleep.”  
  


“I’ve been sleeping for four days.”  
  


“You might still have food poisoning.”  
  


Brian glared and Justin glared back. “I’ll be back early.”  
  


“Bullshit.”  
  


Brian reached for the handle again and Justin kissed his neck. “Just one more day.”  
  


Brian nodded. Not because he was afraid, not because he didn’t know how he’d manage to walk through the doors of the office. No, he was sure it had nothing to do with that. He was sure that the tightness and panic he felt at the idea of taking the elevator to his office was something he’d be over the moment he got inside the building. He relented because Justin needed him and he’d let the man down so many fucking times, so many times in this week alone. He’d give him a day. For Justin.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin wasn’t sure he’d won. Okay, Brian was staying home. They were going out shopping. This was all good. This was all normal. Maybe he could even get Brian to eat something. There was still… they were still off. He didn’t seem inclined to take off at the moment. That was progress. He wondered if he’d ever get him to talk about this shit again. Brian had a habit of ignoring difficult conversations once they were over. Justin wasn’t sure this one was over. He had a feeling Brian wanted nothing more than for it to be over. He didn’t push it at the moment. Instead he toasted a couple of bagels and scrambled some egg whites. Brian needed to fucking eat something and he needed to do something with his hands.  
  


He put the plate in front of him and didn’t say anything. Brian didn’t balk. He ate. Justin felt a tight knot in his stomach unravel a little. He knew Brian was aware that he was watching him intently. He went to his office; he couldn’t stop watching while Brian was in his line of sight. There was still something…off. Something Brian was trying to hide. Justin knew it by the way he clenched his jaw. By the way he was hyperaware of every move either one of them made. He was wary. Justin wondered how long it would take to figure out what was going on.  
  


It was still early. Almost eight in the morning. He checked his email and wrote a long fluffy letter about his life and work. He sent it to Molly and his mother. He sent a letter to Martin outlining his planned timeline for the gallery show and considered a space redesign job that Martin was pitching. He still took a couple of them a year. The income was too good to pass up, and as long as he was painting and still had the time to work on other things, he didn’t mind them so much anymore.  
  


Brian startled him when he laid a hand on his shoulder.  
  


“Christ. I didn’t hear you come in.”  
  


Brian squinted at the screen. Justin closed the window. “I’ve got a redesign for a large firm, but it’s tentative. They’re supposed to close on the space in November, which means that I won’t have to start until after the gallery show. Good money.”  
  


Brian nodded. “You gonna be ready for the show?’  
  


Justin shrugged. “Depends.”  
  


“On what?”  
  


“How inspired I get.”  
  


“You ready to go?’  
  


“It’s early.”  
  


“We’ll walk for a while. Kill time. We should both get the hell out of this place.”  
  


“Yeah, fresh air.”  
  


“New York air.”  
  


“Right. Whatever.”  
  


They left and walked in silence for a while. Justin was following Brian. He seemed to know where he was going. But then Brian had an amazing ability to make it seem that way even when he was totally lost. They ended up in a small park. Justin looked at him with confusion.  
  


Brian sat down and Justin sat next to him. They both sipped their lattes. “Aaron’s having asthma attacks.”  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“He had one this morning.”  
  


“Just asthma, or panic attacks?”  
  


“How the hell would I know?”  
  


Justin shrugged. “I guess I’ll ask him.”  
  


“How’s he doing?”  
  


Justin shrugged again. “He’s fine, I guess, I mean, Lee would tell us if he… fuck.”  
  


“What?”  
  


“I’ve turned into my mother.”  
  


Brian looked at him and Justin ran a hand through his hair. “We really just passed him off to Lee.”  
  


“You’ve been busy.”  
  


“You too.”  
  


Brian shook his head and Justin wanted to scream. “Brian.”  
  


“I wasn’t busy I was…”  
  


“Selfish?”  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“You know that’s bullshit right?”  
  


“Should have been taking care of him… and you.”  
  


“You did take care of me. You are taking care of him.”  
  


Brian didn’t respond.  
  


“You did. You are.”  
  


“Pillows.”  
  


“Yeah. And maybe something for me to wear to the show. I haven’t done this in a while.”  
  


Brian nodded and Justin knew he was relieved to be off the hook. He let it go for the moment. Pushing too hard only worked sometimes…and even then, it was still fucking dangerous.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Aaron's POV  
  


I wake up and Lee's laying beside me. His arm is around my waist and it’s nice, but weird. We’ve always been this on again off again thing and I know we wouldn’t still be on right now if I hadn’t gotten beaten up. I also know Lee blames me. He’s said so. So has Justin. They’re right to blame me. It was my fault.  
  


I move a little closer to Lee. I know I should be pulling away and letting him move on, do an off again thing, but I kind of need him right now. I’m feeling a little out of it, and a little alone.  
  


It’s weird. Brian and Justin refused to let me stay with Lee. Demanded that I come back and stay with them and except for that conversation Brian and I had this morning, we’ve barely spoken.   
  


Justin was kind of a mess for a while. Brian and Matt both said it was about that thing that happened to him in high school. Um, high school? Get. Over. It. Then Brian sort of shut down.  
  


Well more than sort of. He just, Christ, I haven’t seen him that bad since he thought Justin finished with him. So apparently whatever that high school Justin thing was, it hit them both pretty fucking hard. And I get that, and I know it’s selfish but I just wanted to scream. To remind them that while they’re walking around remembering a bad night, I can’t fucking walk. That I’m the one who got hurt this time.  
  


I didn’t. Sometimes, Brian and Justin are… BrianandJustin. One word, one single thing that can’t be separated, or reasoned with. They were both hurting, and like, differently, but the pain was kind of… it was BrianandJustin pain. They were hurting for the other one or something.  
  


I don’t think I’m explaining this right. I don’t even know if I’m right about it at all. What I do know… it’s weird and there was no penetrating that. I tried once or twice. Got a vacant smile, or a nasty “fuck off” but never got further than that.  
  


So I kind of need Lee right now… because he’s so fucking… he’s just good okay? He just does stuff without my asking, and he knows me, and he understands the Brian and Justin thing enough to stay out of it. He and Justin are friends, and that helps. It’s all okay except, when I get better, I’m pretty sure Lee’s going to just bail for good. I really don’t blame him. Who wants a guy who might limp forever and has a nasty scar on his face? So, my pretty eyelash batting twink days are over. And I’ll actually have to focus on making enough money to pay for my own drinks.  
  


Christ this sucks. My hip hurts and I reach for a pill but I’m out. Fuck. Then I see the white bag on the floor. Have I mentioned that Lee is kind of really great about some shit? He stopped and picked up refills on the way here. I lean over to get the bag and Lee’s arm tightens around me in his sleep. I move more slowly and reach it, open the bottle, and swallow a couple. I put my head back on the pillow and Lee pulls me even closer. I close my eyes. I’m gonna miss this when he’s gone.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian and Justin were in the store arguing over… nothing. Not even really arguing. Bickering, snarking, basically acting like an old married couple. They couldn’t, or wouldn’t talk about anything real, and so they got into a power struggle over down pillows and Justin’s need for a new belt. (Brian said absolutely, Justin said absolutely not.) It was all mundane and normal and uncomfortable.  
  


Brian knew Justin wanted to push him further. He also knew he wouldn’t try in the middle of the store, so he stalled. No, the kid didn’t really need a new belt. No, he didn’t really care if he bought the Gucci or the Armani Exchange belt. He didn’t even really care if it was black or brown, he just didn’t really want to leave the store. The store was safe. It was mid morning on a weekday. They had the place almost entirely to themselves, yet it was still a public venue. Justin wouldn’t push in a public venue and thus they needed to come to a lot more of these and avoid going home for as long as possible.  
  


He watched as Justin walked away from the men’s accessories department. Giving up the fight. Brian decided not to follow. He liked the men’s accessories department. Belts and ties rarely tried to push emotional boundaries. He could count on one hand the number of times a pocket square had ever made him curse the world. There was very little chance that those new Prada shoes he was eyeing were going to want to discuss the status of his own perception of self. In all, the accessory department was pretty safe.  
  


He was considering the shoes further when he caught a flash of blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. Justin was in the next department, considering sweaters. No shit, the kid got cold in September and didn’t warm up again 'til July. He shook his head and then turned, shoe still in hand, watching him. He was seemingly contemplating a black V-neck cashmere when he saw Justin’s hand tremor. He took a step forward then stopped. Justin had those. He dealt with those. He hated when Brian rushed him in public places because of them… he hated that Brian noticed them at all.  
  


He watched Justin put the sweater back with his left hand and wipe his palms on his jeans. He really wanted to go to him. He watched as a salesman came up to ask him if he needed assistance. Shit. The guy was coming at him from behind and… Brian saw it happen before he could do a damn thing about it. The salesman said something. Justin jumped as if he’d been burned. He turned to face the man, shook his head and Brian saw the drawn look around his mouth. He walked towards him. Making sure Justin saw him before he put his arm around him.  
  


Justin looked up at him, surprised but not startled. “What?”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Just saying hi.”  
  


Justin rested his head against Brian’s chest. “Hi.”  
  


The salesman came up behind Justin again and Brian seriously considered hitting the man but then realized he was still holding the shoe. “Did you want to try this on?”  
  


Brian shook his head and relinquished the item. Justin put an arm around Brian’s waist and turned to face the door. “Let’s get out of here, okay?”  
  


Brian nodded. Five minutes ago he’d have been content to simply sleep in the bedding department. Live in a public venue with things that didn’t push. Right now, he just wanted to get Justin someplace where people didn’t walk up behind him and ask pointless questions…  
  


They both pulled sunglasses out of their pockets when they stepped outside. The air was cool but not chilly and they walked back towards the apartment. “Fuck.”  
  


“What?”  
  


“We never actually decided on pillows.”  
  


“It’s okay, we have half a dozen spare ones in the linen closet.”  
  


“We do?”  
  


Justin nodded and Brian shook his head. Fucking twat.  
  


“I’m not a twat.”  
  


“Who said you were?”  
  


“You were thinking it.”  
  


“Maybe.”  
  


“We needed to get out.”  
  


“I guess.”  
  


“We can’t spend the rest of our lives in that apartment hoping that the world gets safer.”  
  


Brian didn’t say anything for several blocks. Justin hip checked him. “What?”  
  


“The world's not safe.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“Nowhere’s safe.”  
  


“Not even home.”  
  


Brian nodded. “Home.”  
  


“Lunch?”  
  


“Not hungry.”  
  


“So? I am.”  
  


“Aren’t you always?”  
  


“I don’t eat like that anymore. I’m not a fucking teenager.”  
  


“Who knows, maybe you have another growth spurt in you.”  
  


“Brian, you do realize I’ll be thirty soon.”  
  


“Two years.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“That’s not soon.”  
  


“It’s soon enough that we can rule out another growth spurt. I’m a midget and you love me.”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“You’re supposed to disagree.”  
  


“Oh, right, I don’t love you.”  
  


Justin smacked Brian’s arm. “About the midget part.”  
  


“That part’s true.”  
  


“You’re an asshole.”  
  


“And you’re a midget.”  
  


“A brain damaged midget.”  
  


“Right.”  
  


“With a fucked up little half breed.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“What the fuck are we going to do about Aaron?”  
  


“Lee seems to be holding his own with him.”  
  


“It’s not fair to Lee. It’s not fair to Aaron. He got attacked and we’ve been… fuck. Brian, we’re doing…”  
  


“What?”  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“What are we doing?”  
  


“Nothing. We have to let him talk. I think we’ve been shutting him out.”  
  


“You were shutting everyone out for a while.”  
  


“I was a little… spun.”  
  


“Good word.”  
  


“So were you.”  
  


“Just for a day or two.”  
  


“It’s been…” Justin counted backwards in his head. “Five weeks. You’ve been spun for five weeks.”  
  


Brian shook his head and lit a cigarette. “I’m perfect.”  
  


“You’re deeply flawed.”  
  


“Perfectly.”  
  


“You gonna pretend last week, last night, didn’t happen?”  
  


“Probably best.”  
  


“You know I’m not gonna let that happen.”  
  


Brian nodded and started walking. Justin had to run a little to keep up with him. He pushed him into a diner on the next block. Brian didn’t fight it when Justin pushed him into a booth.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Lee put a sandwich down in front of Aaron and handed him a beer. He took one for himself.  
  


“You’re not eating?”  
  


“I ate on the way over. Figured you could use some food. Do those two ever buy groceries?”  
  


“No. Brian hates shopping and Justin gets sucked into something in the studio and before you know it… the Thai place has made another fifty bucks.”  
  


“Must be nice to have that kind of money.”  
  


“It’s a good thing they do. Neither one of them can take care of themselves. I swear, without the maid service this place would be…”  
  


“Justin’s place was always clean when he lived with Matt.”  
  


“Matt’s place is always clean now. Who’s the control factor there?”  
  


Lee nodded. “Yeah, Matt’s a clean freak.”  
  


“No shit, I lived with him this summer.”  
  


Lee smiled. “That was fun.”  
  


“It was?”  
  


“No dorm bullshit, and no glaring evil eyes from your family.”  
  


“They’re past that.”  
  


“Brian is…sort of.”  
  


“Brian just likes to scare you. Brian just likes to scare people.”  
  


“It works.”  
  


“You should fuck with Rage, make him all cowardly and weak. Just to piss Brian off.”  
  


“I just draw what I’m told. Michael writes the stories.”  
  


“That must be why they suck lately.”  
  


“Probably. But why are you so pissed at Brian?”  
  


“Who said I was?”  
  


“Fucking with Rage just to piss him off?”  
  


Aaron shrugged and took a bite of his sandwich. “I’m not mad. I’m just aggravated. He tries to make it seem like he’s fine, and he’s a fucking basket case.”  
  


“About what?” Lee stole a chip from Aaron’s bag.  
  


“About Justin I think… I think it’s about that bashing thing at Justin’s prom.”  
  


“That was like ten years ago.”  
  


“Brian’s apparently sentimental about shit like that.”  
  


“Brian?”  
  


“Seriously, he holds on to pain. He just… I’m not sure but they’re… something’s going on.”  
  


“Justin was fucked up for a while. He’s better now, I think. He went to dinner with Matt and Jamison and Becca.”  
  


“Matt and Jamison are still together?”  
  


“Yeah, almost four months. Weird.”  
  


Aaron pulled a pill from his pocket and swallowed it with beer. Lee frowned. “You’re supposed to take one every six hours.”  
  


“What’s the difference?”  
  


“It’s been less than two?”  
  


“So, it’s not like I have anywhere to be, or anything to do.”  
  


“You could do your PT.”  
  


“I’m going to.”  
  


“When?”  
  


“When it doesn’t hurt.”  
  


“They said it would hurt for a while.”  
  


“So in a while I’ll do it.”  
  


“You’re not gonna get off those crutches if you don’t”  
  


“They let me take the brace off.”  
  


“Really? That’s not what I remember.”  
  


“They said I could take it off when I was sitting.”  
  


“But put it back on when you had to move around, even if you were just going back to bed.”  
  


“Christ you’re a nag.”  
  


Justin and Brian were putting the leftovers in the fridge. “What are you nagging my little half-breed about now?”  
  


Aaron glared at Lee. Lee shrugged. “Nothing, but he’s not supposed to move without the brace on. He’s only supposed to take it off when he’s sitting.”  
  


“Traitor.”  
  


Lee bit his tongue and gave Aaron a grin.   
  


“You’ve been taking off your brace when you’re not supposed to?”  
  


“They’re being way too careful. How am I gonna heal without moving it?”  
  


Brian was leaning against the counter staring at Aaron. Aaron looked up at him. “You know it’s bullshit. Right?”  
  


Justin snorted. “Interesting choice for an ally.”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Do what you want.”  
  


Aaron smiled triumphantly.   
  


“But, if you fall on the hardwood floors and can’t move. I’m just stepping over you.”  
  


Aaron’s face fell. “I’m not gonna get…” he bit his lip. “I’ll wear the brace.”  
  


Brian nodded. “Good. And stop taking your meds with beer. Not interested in living Jacqueline Susann novel.”  
  


“who? Whatever. I just…”   
  


Brian cocked and eyebrow and Aaron slumped in his chair. “You used to be fun.”  
  


Justin handed Brian a beer and took one for him. “No he didn’t.”  
  


Aaron pushed away the rest of his sandwich and got up to go to his room.   
  


“Hey.”  
  


He looked back at Brian. “What?”  
  


“Your brace?”  
  


“It’s in my room.”  
  


Brian nodded and went to get it. Aaron sighed and sat back down. He looked directly at Lee. “You suck.”  
  


Lee nodded. “I’m comfortable with that.”  
  


Justin laughed and sat back on the chair. “So you two have plans?”  
  


“Yeah, I was gonna practice my new acrobatic routine and then go for a jog.”  
  


“Funny.”  
  


“We’re going to the movies. You guys want to come?”  
  


Justin shook his head just as Brian emerged from Aaron’s room with the brace. He handed it to Aaron and took his beer back to the sofa. Justin looked at Brian questioningly.  
  


“What?”  
  


“There’s a question on the floor. Do we want to go to the movies?”  
  


Brian seemed to consider it for a moment and shrugged. “Why not?”  
  


Justin raised an eyebrow. “Really?”  
  


“What the hell else do we have to do?”  
  


“Good point.”  
  


Lee looked at his watch. “The movie starts at three. We should get moving.”  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Aaron and Lee sat in what Aaron called “the gimp seats” so he could stretch his hip out.  
  


Brian and Justin moved to their favorite theatre position, far back left corner. Brian sat against the wall, Justin on his right. There were a thousand reasons this was their preferred place. The most important was that Brian’s right hand had easy access to Justin’s lap and Justin’s gimp hand didn’t get in the way.   
  


The lights went down. The previews started and Brian’s hands were in places that would get them kicked out of the theatre if the usher ever bothered to look.   
  


Justin leaned in and kissed Brian. Brian’s hand pulled Justin’s face closer.  
  


There was a scream from the screen and they both looked. A girl was swimming in what seemed to be a river of blood. Someone was after her. He was holding something. Justin broke out in a cold sweat. It was that fucking dream he’d been having. Blood, everywhere. He tensed. He was not a stupid faggot. He was not going to get freaked by a fucking movie trailer.   
  


He tried to kiss Brian again but his mouth was dry and Brian’s eyes were open and sightless and his hands were shaking and Justin dragged him up. They left quietly and hoped Aaron and Lee hadn’t seen their exit, or thought it was for a quickie.  
  


They walked outside the theater into the still bright daylight. Brian sat down heavily on a bench and lit a cigarette. Justin took one and lit it for himself. He held Brian’s hand but Brian twisted it out of his grasp.  
  


“Holy shit.”  
  


Brian didn’t say anything.  
  


Justin tried to laugh it off. “We are both seriously fucked up.”  
  


Brian still didn’t seem entirely aware of his surroundings. He stood up. Justin moved to follow him but Brian held his hand up, motioning him to stay.  
  


Brian disappeared between the two buildings and Justin moved a little closer. Not wanting to leave Brian alone. He heard the retching and when Brian emerged from the alley his face was pale, his lips bright red. He wiped off his mouth.   
  


“I’ll go back in and tell them we left.”  
  


Brian shook his head. Justin ignored him and disappeared for a few minutes.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


Jesus fucking Christ. A fucking movie trailer. Some girl, swimming in blood. And then Justin’s face… his eyes…looking scared and… his body froze and then mine did and then the fucking blood… people watch that for entertainment? The masses are fucking sick… that’s all. That’s just… and I thought I was twisted. People need to get laid more. Maybe then they’d lose that blood fetish.  
  


Threw Justin. Threw me. Fuck. I’m a grown man and a fucking movie trailer can throw me. What the fuck?  
  


Okay, I’m getting out of here. Out of town… I’ve got to… fuck. Aaron. Stupid gimpy half-breed walking around without his brace. There’s other shit. Shit he doesn’t think I know… shit I’m too good at not to know.  
  


Lee picks up his meds. So does Justin. So do I. From different pharmacies. Kid’s good. Smart, and take three times the number of painkillers he’s supposed to. Thinks we don’t talk to each other…  
  


He’s right. We don’t. Thinks I don’t notice shit like that…. wrong. But this I can fix. This I’m gonna fix. And the little issue I had last week. I’m fine. That’s over. Justin and I can just move on.   
  


Justin’s back and he hails a cab. We’re back home and for the first time in a long time we’re alone. I can make him forget about the conversation he wants to have. I can make him forget everything.  
  


My mouth is on his neck. He tastes… good. Underneath all that oatmeal and clay hypoallergenic body wash is this really strong clean musky flavor that’s all him. I’m pulling his shirt off, and he’s pulling at mine. Undoing the buttons and sliding the shirt off my shoulders. Pulling at the hem of my wife beater.   
  


His jeans are the next to go. He’s toeing off his shoes and kicking his pants off. He’s working the buttons on my fly and we’re naked. Naked is the way I like him best. His arms are more muscular than they used to be. He uses that bowflex for more than just physical therapy. It works though. He’s not a little kid anymore. Still looks young as fuck. I push him down on the sofa and he uses his legs to push himself further up towards the arm. He’s smiling up at me… Christ he’s the most dangerous fucking thing I’ve ever known.  
  


This fucking kid…man, whatever, he’s gonna kill me if I don’t kill him first. I’m gonna have to kill him, it’ll be simple… I’ll have him disintegrate. Internal combustion. I can do that.   
  


My mouth is on him and his hands are all over me. In my hair, stroking up my arms as I tongue fuck his navel and he tries to thrust upwards. Tries to get some friction on his cock. It’s leaking already and I’m nowhere near letting him come. The movie’s two hours long. They’ll probably go for coffee after that…they might walk back in and he still won’t have come…  
  


I want to hear him beg. I want to feel him need me. I shouldn’t. It would be easier if he never needed me, but he does. And I need him, and fuck if I’m gonna be standing alone in the cold with this need, so I’ll let in build in him 'til he can’t breathe.  
  


And he’s already close. He’s ready to beg, but he fights it. Takes him longer to beg these days…that’s okay, he’ll do it.  
  


He’s so hot, so fucking tight. One finger inside him and his body arcs and clamps down on me and he’s breathing out my name. I slide up him, pulling out of him and he’s protesting, but our bodies are aligned and his hand comes down to grasp both our cocks. Bullshit, he thinks he’s gonna get off with a hand job. He’s not coming 'til I’m so deep inside him he can’t tell where he stops and I start.   
  


I move his hands over his head and hold them there. Kissing him. His mouth, his wet tongue sliding against mine. His lips, his hair tickling my face. Him. God. Christ. Him. And I’m sucking at his neck and spreading his hair out with my free hand. I let go of both his wrists and he keeps his arms over his head. Good boy. My hands span his chest, pushing him back down. His back arches, I pull away. He’s breathing hard. His eyes are glazed and half lidded and he stares at me, not even blinking.   
  


His hand moves down to his cock and I shake my head. He looks confused and then I think he realizes what he was doing. He puts both hands over his head again, death grip on the arm of the sofa as he lays there, naked, exposed. And I’m just sitting back on his ankles watching him. He wants to say something. He opens his mouth. I shake my head again and he licks his lips. I stoke one hand from his jaw line, down his chest 'til I’m threading my fingers through the strawberry thatch above his cock.   
  


He moans and I smile and stroke his dick slowly. Never giving him enough to get off…just enough to tease.  
  


He tries to thrust up, to fuck my hand. Not gonna happen. I lay my other hand flat against his tummy and he’s chastised. He doesn’t move. His body is quivering but he doesn’t move. I move my body up over his. My knees resting on either side of his chest. I lean forward and press my cock to his lips. He licks lightly and I pull back.   
  


He whimpers and his mouth follows my dick. I shake my head again and he moves a little, 'til his head is resting against the arm of the chair. His arms are still over his head, falling backwards over the sofa. I feed my cock to him and he closes his eyes. The look on his face… pure bliss, and I love that.   
  


He wants to come. He wants me to fuck him. He wants to fuck me…but right now… he’s blissed out on the taste of my cock in his mouth. He’s comfortable giving up all control. I don’t have to tie him down, he won’t move…he won’t pull me forward, he won’t push me back, he’ll let me take what I need…give what I have. He’s always done that and it’s…. it’s probably fucking unhealthy and right now, with his tongue pressing into my slit and his body writhing under my thighs… I don’t fucking care.  
  


I’m about to come and I stop. He bangs his head back against the sofa in frustration and I laugh at him. He gives me a look that probably scares tricks…then again; I doubt most tricks can do this to him. I know he doesn’t give up control like this…not with them.  
  


I pull him up by his waist. Sliding him out from under me. He’s so pliable when he wants to be. Like a rag doll, but… not. With strength he’s just chosen not to use. I kiss him and he’s on his knees now, between my thighs. He’s taller than me like this and he loves that. Loves looking down at me and kissing me. Kid has a Napoleon complex sometimes I swear. But he is a midget.  
  


His tongue is pushing into my mouth and I’m letting it. I’m sucking on it in the same rhythm I’m using to squeeze his ass. He’s pushing against me. He needs to come. I’m not ready to let him yet so I push him away.   
  


He turns, laying on his belly, grinding against the sofa and pushing his perfect little ass into the air. Teasing me. He’ll start talking again soon. Telling me what a good little boy he is and how he deserves to come. He is, he does, he’s still not gonna… not for a while.  
  


I do move behind him and lay my body entirely over his. I kiss his neck again. I let my tongue flick and my teeth scrape across his shoulder blades. I kiss him in that spot right between them that makes him shudder every time.  
  


He’d making these soft noises in the back of his throat and he wants me, and that’s pretty much all he wants right now. I move lower and he raises up on his knees. He knows what he wants and I slide my tongue between his cheeks. He lets out a low moan that he couldn’t stop if he tried.  
  


I tongue down behind his balls and just push my tongue in and out on that spot. I lay my hand on his cock and feel him thrust forward against my palm, his precum lubing it, and thrust back on my tongue. I move lower, taking his balls into my mouth. I suck hard and his reaction is instantaneous. He pushes backwards and then thrusts harder into my hand. My mouth leaves him and my hand slides to his hip, and he’s bucking backwards towards nothing.  
  


I pull the condom off the coffee table and slide I on. I sit back and pull him towards me. Holding my dick upright while I position him onto it. His legs now on top of mine. His back flush against my chest. He spreads his legs so that one’s falling over my thigh and off the sofa. He twists and pushes down hard. I bite his neck. I lick his ear. I whisper “good boy”.  
  


He’s using the leverage from his foot on the floor to ride me. His head falls backwards on to my shoulder and my arm is around his waist. One arm is on the sofa, giving him more leverage; the other is wrapped around the back of my head, pulling me forward to kiss and lick him more. He’s grunting and moaning and he moves his hand from the sofa to guide mine off of his nipples and down to his cock. He can give up complete control…for about ten minutes…then he needs to direct me, I like I don’t know what he wants.  
  


I encircle his cock and let him fuck my hand while he fucks himself on me. I feel my orgasm start to build. I’m beyond denying it anymore. He speeds up. We’re both close.  
  


I bite his neck again. “Come for me.” And he does… warm spurts into my hand, his body tensing and releasing around me. And I come too… my head thrown back, both arms wrapped around his body, holding him close. Feeling his heart beating against my palms. Feeling my heart beating through my chest and into his back.   
  


I move my hand to push the sweaty hair off of his face. A few minutes later he turns around, pulling the condom off me. Wrapping his legs around my waist and kissing me. His hand on the back of my head. Our foreheads pressed together. Our noses crushing one another.  
  


He’s got this death grip on me, and I’m probably breaking one of his ribs but when I try to loosen my hold he just holds tighter.  
  


We fall asleep like that.   
  



	10. Chapter 10

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Ten   


* * *

 

 

  
  


Justin’s on the phone and he’s laughing. It’s a good sound. I haven’t heard it in a while. I missed it. I miss being able to make him laugh. We’re not in that kind of place right now. I want to know who he’s talking to. I want to know who can make him laugh like that. He’ll tell me… maybe.  
  


I’ve got to go back to the office tomorrow. Four day weekend, okay, almost a full week of really not being around. Not even getting calls from Cynthia or Ted. Ted stopped by last night, ostensibly to get me to sign something. I’m not fucking retarded, and Ted’s less than subtle when he does that searching thing with his eyes. I guess I passed the test because he only stayed for twenty minutes. He’s got to get back to Pittsburgh and I’ve got to get back to the office. I’m better now. We’re better now.   
  


Justin’s laughing. Not with me, but he’s laughing. That proves we’re better. I can eat and walk and talk and think and I haven’t taken anything more than a couple of Xanex today… better. It’s almost four in the afternoon. I hate Sundays, always have. But at least this is my last one for a while. I’m gonna have to work non-stop to catch up on the shit I haven’t done in the last week.  
  


I’m going out to get a beer. It sounds like Justin’s wrapping up his phone call and that has nothing to do with why I’m suddenly making an appearance in the living room. I just want something to drink. I’m thirsty.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin’s POV  
  


He thinks he’s being subtle. He lost subtle about two weeks ago. He wants to know who I was on the phone with. I don’t care. I was gonna tell him anyway. He thinks I’m keeping secrets. I’m really not.  
  


“That was Daphne.”  
  


“How’s she doing?”  
  


“She’s good, the baby’s getting bigger daily. They’re coming to the states soon.”  
  


“That’s good.”  
  


“She said we both needed therapy. I couldn’t stop laughing.” He puts his beer down and tries to scowl but he really wants to know what I told her about us.  
  


“I told her about Aaron, and you know, me being freaked. She says we’re both idiots who never dealt with anything and if it were up to her she’d lock us in a room with a therapist for at least six months.” He’s smiling, almost laughing. Good, he sees the humor too.  
  


“We’re not gonna do that.”  
  


I nod in agreement. “What the fuck could a therapist tell us that we don’t already know?”  
  


“I, personally, know everything.”  
  


I roll my eyes but honestly, about this, he may. He’s off base, but in what he thinks he should feel. He KNOWS why he’s upset. He knows why I’m upset. “You’re really omnipotent.”  
  


“Damn straight.”  
  


“I have work to do in the studio.”   
  


I leave him there, drinking his beer. I know he’s relieved. I think he’s secretly been waiting for me to tell him to see a shrink. Um, I know Brian better than that. Brian knows Brian better than that. I used to be sure Brian knew ME better than that.  
  


I’m trying to plan my next painting but I’m blocked. Seriously blocked. I’ve been sketching, and working some shit out on the computer and I’ve come up with…nothing. But I’m not leaving the fucking studio 'til I’ve got something on canvas. I don’t really care what it is.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


At eleven Justin emerged from the studio. He’d gotten something onto the canvas. He wasn’t sure it was good, or that he even liked it, but at least he’d roughed out an idea.  
  


Brian was sitting in the chair. He looked up when Justin opened the refrigerator.   
  


“Hey.”  
  


“Hey.”  
  


“You finish anything?”  
  


“Started something, nowhere near finished.”  
  


Justin held out a beer questioningly. Brian picked up his own from the floor by his hand. Justin put the beer back in the ‘fridge and walked towards Brian.   
  


“What did you do all day?”  
  


Brian shook his head.  
  


“Tell me you just sat here and drank.”  
  


“I went to the gym.”  
  


“Good.”  
  


“I’m gonna start going more often.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“I’m going back to work tomorrow.”  
  


“I figured.”  
  


Justin straddled Brian; resting his weight on his thighs he arched his back, hands above his head, cracking the vertebrae loudly.   
  


“Lee just left.” Brian’s hands were resting on Justin’s thighs. Justin’s hands came down and covered Brian's.   
  


“We should start charging him rent.”  
  


“I think it’s gonna be the other way around.”  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“Aaron thinks he’s ready to go live with Lee.  
  


“Is he?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“He can’t even walk yet.” Justin reached down for his beer.  
  


“So we’ll tell him no.”  
  


“That’s always worked.”  
  


“He’s not ready to go.”  
  


Justin nodded. “There’s no way he can work, so he can’t cover rent. And he should be back in school by January.”  
  


“Tell Lee no.”  
  


“You tell Lee no. He’s afraid of you.”  
  


“You think Aaron should be talking to someone?”  
  


“He’s talking to Lee right?”  
  


“Lee’s not a professional.”  
  


“You think Aaron should see a professional?” Justin looked at Brian questioningly.  
  


“I think Aaron’s fucked up.”  
  


“I’ll talk to him.”  
  


“I think you’re fucked up.”  
  


“I’m getting better.”  
  


“I guess.” Brian threaded his fingers through Justin's.  
  


“You don’t think I am?”  
  


“No, you are. I am.”  
  


“So what are you worried about?”  
  


Brian shrugged. “You gonna join a gang in a couple of years?”  
  


“I don’t know, you gonna pretend nothing at all happened to you?”  
  


“Nothing happened…”  
  


“Shut up.”  
  


Brian drained his beer. “Justin…”  
  


“Don’t Brian. If you can’t hear it out loud, if you can’t admit it… fine, I get it, but don’t lie. The lying makes it worse.”  
  


“I’m not…”  
  


Justin launched himself off of Brian’s lap. Brian winced and Justin almost felt gratified. “I’ll be in my office.”  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian sat for several minutes after he heard the office door slam. He wasn’t sure why Justin was so upset. He shook his head, trying to clear it. That didn’t work. He pulled his laptop from the side table and opened it, staring blankly at the screen. He reached behind him and found the bottle of scotch. He drank deeply and started looking for vacation spots. They probably really should get away for a while.   
  


He was considering booking the trip to Hawaii when Aaron came stomping out of his room with only one crutch. No brace. He closed the computer. The trip would have to wait.  
  


“Go get your brace.”  
  


“I just wanted…”  
  


“To put your brace on.”  
  


“Brian. I’m not five.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


Aaron took another step forward and Brian walked towards him. Aaron sighed and turned around. When he came back out he was wearing his brace and looking angry.  
  


He sat at the table across from Brian who’d gotten himself another beer. Aaron got one for himself and held it in his free hand, still only using one crutch.  
  


“I’m an adult.”  
  


“Act like it.”  
  


“You can’t tell me what to do.”  
  


“Probably not.”  
  


“My leg’s never gonna get better.”  
  


“Not if you won’t follow simple directions.”  
  


“I’m moving out next month. I’m gonna live with Lee.”  
  


“Nope.”  
  


“Brian.”  
  


“No.”  
  


“I wasn’t asking.”  
  


“I wasn’t responding to a request.”  
  


“I’m…”  
  


“You’re fucked up. You’re still hurt. You can’t walk on your own, and if you can you’re not supposed to. No.”  
  


“I’m going.”  
  


“Tell your brother.”  
  


“You tell him.”  
  


“No.”  
  


“Find another fucking word.”  
  


“No.”  
  


Justin walked in to see Brian glaring at Aaron and Aaron, arms crossed glaring back. He sighed. “What now?”  
  


“He says he won’t let me move in with Lee.”  
  


“When?”  
  


“A minute ago.”  
  


“No, when are you moving in with Lee?”  
  


“First of the month.”  
  


“No.”  
  
”Justin.”  
  


“You’re not ready. No.”  
  


“Do you two have like, a secret code?”  
  


“Yes. But we also have some basic common sense.”  
  


“I’m fine.”  
  


“I’m sure.”  
  


“I can’t stay here.”  
  


“Why not?” Justin sat down next to Aaron. “Why not?” This time more gently.  
  


“Lee’s going insane trying to take care of me and keep up his own life. I’m going insane stuck in this place all day, every day. I need to start my life.”  
  


“What about school?”  
  


“What’s the point?”  
  


Justin saw Brian’s knuckles turn white as he gripped the edge of the table. He shook his head at Brian but Brian wasn’t paying attention, or even looking in his direction.  
  


“Aaron, you have to…”  
  


“I don’t have to do anything.”  
  


Brian stood up, and pushed the table away so hard it almost slammed Justin in the chest. He pushed back but Brian had already flipped his chair and was pacing. He looked over at Aaron and opened his mouth to say something but then turned away. He took his keys and phone from the table by the door and left, slamming the door behind him.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


“Jesus.”  
  


“Aaron. Shut up.”  
  


“He’s really…”  
  


“Shut the fuck up.”   
  


“What’s his problem?”  
  


“We don’t have that kind of time. You’re fucking finishing school.”  
  


“I’m not sure I can.”  
  


“I’m pretty sure you have to.”  
  


“Why? Because you didn’t?”  
  


“Let’s say yes. But what I do doesn’t require a degree either.”  
  


“How do you know what I do will?”  
  


“I know everything.”  
  


“That doesn’t even work when Brian says it.”  
  


“Aaron.”  
  


“Just leave me alone. You guys have been ignoring me for weeks and now I’m the reason Brian’s wigging out? Fuck you.”  
  


“You’re not the ONLY reason. Can you just… not give him _more_ reason?”  
  


“I don’t know. Who the fuck knows what sends him round the bend these days.”  
  


“I do.”  
  


“You do?”  
  


“Well, I have an idea. You not finishing school would have sent him round the bend at any time. But you shouldn’t do it for him. You should do it because you’re so fucking close. How many credits left to go?”  
  


“Twenty or so.”  
  


“That’s less than two semesters.”  
  


“I know. I was gonna graduate in May. Now looks like December.”  
  


“So you are going back?”  
  


“Probably. They didn’t kick me out, I just took a semester off.”  
  


“For medical reasons.”  
  


“I just… it seems kind of pointless.”  
  


“It isn’t.”  
  


“How do you know, you never finished.”  
  


“Just do this. What else are you gonna do? Get a job as a waiter or a sales clerk? Fawn all over people for tips?”  
  


“I could be a hustler. More fawning but better tips.”  
  


Justin glared and Aaron smiled and Justin almost stopped glaring. “I may have lost my sense of humor.”  
  


“Did you look under the sofa?”  
  


“Yeah, it’s not there.”  
  


“Maybe Brian has it. You should ask him.”  
  


“I would, if I knew where he was.”  
  


“He’s out fucking someone.”  
  


“Duh.”  
  


“So he’ll be back.”  
  


“Duh”  
  


“Is it rude to call?”  
  


“I think so. I try not to call him when he’s trying not to be near me.”  
  


“He usually likes to be near you.”  
  


“And this situation doesn’t seem unusual to you?”  
  


“No, it’s fucking twisted, but that’s not unusual for the two of you.”  
  


“You want food?”  
  


“It’s almost midnight.”  
  


“Right. You going to bed?”  
  


Aaron laughed, “You’ll make a lousy parent someday.”  
  


“Good thing it’s a skill I don’t need.”  
  


“You don’t want kids?”  
  


“No. Did you think I wanted kids?”  
  


“I don’t know. Brian has one. I thought maybe you wanted one.”  
  


“Never thought about it much. Gus is great. Not really in the mood to have mashed bananas in my hair, or be a full time parent. And I know it’s not something Brian ever wanted.”  
  


“Not even with Gus?”  
  


“No. He’s glad Gus is closer. The summer was fun but Brian worked a lot. He likes being a drop in dad I think.”  
  


“I want kids.”  
  


“Got a mommy picked?”  
  


“Becca.”  
  


Justin started laughing loudly.   
  


“What?”  
  


“Becca’s not gonna carry your baby.”  
  


“She might.”  
  


“Okay, when you can get her to stay in the country for six months straight, let me know.”  
  


“That’s why she’d be the perfect mom, she could be a ‘drop in’ mom”  
  


“First she has to give birth, which I’m thinking, is not on her to do list.”  
  


“Then I’ll find someone else.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“Don’t you think there should be another Taylor? I mean someone to carry on the name?”  
  


“No. Who cares what happens to the name. And it’d be Beckman-Taylor anyway.”  
  


“No, I think the kid would just be Taylor.”  
  


“Like Cher?”  
  


“You’re a twat.”  
  


“So I’ve been told.”  
  


“I’m gonna play GTA, wanna join me?”  
  


Justin considered sleeping but the bed without Brian in it was less than tempting. He shrugged and followed Aaron over to the sofa. “One crutch?”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“And if I ask Aaron, is he gonna tell me that was approved by the doctor?”  
  


“Remember two weeks ago when you couldn’t focus beyond your own hands?”  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“I miss that. Could you go back to being a walking zombie? It was relaxing.”  
  


“For you.”  
  


“Yeah, well, it worked for Brian too. He had something to do that wasn’t about him.”  
  


“How bad was he.”  
  


Well, it’s a good thing you guys don’t go food shopping.”  
  


“Why?”  
  


“Neither of you were eating.”  
  


“Fuck. I really fucked him up.”  
  


“Yeah. But I don’t think it was you. It was me.”  
  


“Not you. Maybe a little what happened to you.”  
  


“Same thing.”  
  


“Really isn’t.”  
  


“I took those guys on when I shouldn’t have. That’s what started all this.”  
  


Justin focused on the game for a moment. Using a mace to keep away a would be attacker. “You couldn’t have stopped what happened. You didn’t know. You did the right thing, you found help.”  
  


“Did the right thing? I collapsed on your doorstep.”  
  


“You made it here. You got help.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“What?”  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“What?”  
  


“Wouldn’t it have been better if I hadn’t made it here?”  
  


“Better?”  
  


“Someone would have found me, and then called you, right? But you wouldn’t have had to see it.”  
  


“You came where you knew you’d be safe. You did the right thing.”  
  


“But if you hadn’t seen it… it might not have fucked you up so much.”  
  


“Don’t. Seriously don’t start thinking this is your fault.”  
  


“You said it was my fault.”  
  


“No. You heard the tail end of a conversation that never should have been had.”  
  


Aaron stabbed the guy about to attack Justin’s character and they moved together towards another band of armed bad guys. “You were just being honest.”  
  


“There’s honest, and there’s heat of the moment bullshit.”  
  


“But I really did fuck up.”  
  


“So have I. So has Brian. You’ll fuck up a hundred times more.”  
  


“Thanks.”  
  


“It’s true. Life is a series of bizarre fuck ups followed by long stretches of trying to fix shit.”  
  


“Wow, you should be a motivational speaker.”  
  


“I should be. At least I’m honest.”  
  


“So what happens after the long stretch of trying to fix shit?”  
  


“You realize that the fuck up was inevitable and probably for the best in the long run.”  
  


“Seriously?”  
  


“Seriously.”  
  


“So you fuck up and then realize it was just serendipity?”  
  


“Usually. But like, years later.”  
  


“So when do I get to the part where it’s for the best that I got attacked?”  
  


“Um… yeah, this one may not turn out like that. But you and Lee are tight.”  
  


“Not because of this. Well, maybe because of this, but maybe _only_ because of this.”  
  


“Christ, you really are my brother.”  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“Nothing. I just… it’s all really sounding familiar. Lee cares. Accept that.”  
  


“Whatever, he’d be an asshole to run out on a gimp right?”  
  


“He’d be an asshole to run out on _you_.”  
  


“I’m the gimp.”  
  


“Aaron.”  
  


Neither said anything for several minute while they maimed and killed countless ruffians on the digital street. Aaron yawned loudly.  
  


“Go to bed.”  
  


“I’m not tired.”  
  


“You’re always tired. All those pretty pills.”  
  


“Hip hurts.”  
  


“Whatever. Get some sleep.”  
  


“You going to bed?”  
  


Justin stretched his arms and switched the television back to actual programming. “Later.”  
  


Aaron went back to his room and Justin flipped through the channels 'til he found a show on the history of dragons. He left it on and was sketching a Chinese dragon they’d shown. Brian didn’t come back until almost three.  
  


He heard the door open and refused to look towards it. He didn’t want to see what kind of shape Brian was in, and he certainly didn’t want Brian thinking he’d been waiting for him. He continued sketching only half paying attention to the television, which was now hosting a debate on the T-Rex and whether it was a predator or a scavenger. Brian didn’t say anything to him and disappeared into the bedroom.  
  


Justin waited for what seemed like a reasonable interval and then followed him.  
  


Brian was already in bed, on his back, smoking. Justin crawled in next to him.  
  


“Waiting for me to come home?”  
  


“No, got sucked into something on TV.”  
  


“Mmm hmmm.”  
  


“You go to the baths?”  
  


Brian nodded.   
  


“Aaron’s gonna finish school.”  
  


Brian nodded again.  
  


“He’s just lost, he wasn’t sure. He’s… he’ll finish.”  
  


“He’d better.”  
  


“He wants a baby.” Brian choked on his cigarette. And Justin laughed. “It’s okay I don’t think he wants one tomorrow.”  
  


“Not in this apartment.”  
  


“Duh. We’re not raising a kid.”  
  


“What the fuck is wrong with your brother?”  
  


“He’s stupid?”  
  


“Apparently.”  
  


“He’s young, and lost. And he thinks we freaked because of him.”  
  


“We did.”  
  


Justin gave Brian an aggravated look and Brian looked away. “Maybe not.”  
  


“Not. No maybes involved”  
  


“I’m putting a moratorium on talking about this.”  
  


“Talking about what?”  
  


“I can’t tell you. I’d be breaking my moratorium edict.”  
  


“Yeah, cause your edicts always work with me.”  
  


“Fuck.”  
  


Justin kissed Brian’s temple and then lay a few soft kisses along the side of his face. “It would just, in general, be really convenient, if you would remember, for even a second, that I’m not afraid of you, and don’t follow your stupid rules, and that you really don’t follow them either. And if you would just admit that we were both seriously fucked up, and that we’re getting better, and that you love me, and that you’re about to fuck me, then we can stop talking about this for, maybe, two whole days in a row.” He punctuated each phrase with another kiss.  
  


Brian sighed. “Two days?”  
  


“Two, starting now, ending at four in the morning on Tuesday.”  
  


“Wednesday.”  
  


“That’s three days.”  
  


“We’re negotiating.”  
  


“Fine, Wednesday. Now… that only works if you fuck me.”  
  


Brian stubbed out his cigarette and rolled on top of Justin. “You sure that’s what you want?”  
  


“Don’t fucking tease me.”  
  


“I like teasing you.”  
  


“Not in the mood. I want you. Now.”  
  


“Demanding.”  
  


“About to get more so.”  
  


Brian held Justin’s arms beside his head. He dipped down to kiss him. “Now?”  
  


“Now.” Justin breathed into him.  
  


He let go of Justin long enough to reach for a condom. Handing it to Justin and leaning back.   
  


Justin’s hands were shaking a little when he put it on him and he knew it was stupid, to be this nervous, but sometimes Brian still did that too him.   
  


Brian leaned forward and kissed him again. Justin’s legs wrapped high around Brian’s waist and he arched his back as Brian pushed slowly into him.  
  


“No fucking teasing me.”  
  


“Patience.”  
  


“Fuck patience.”  
  


Brian pushed harder and Justin moaned against Brian’s shoulder. They moved together. Justin’s arms running through Brian’s hair, pulling his head in for a deep kiss. Brian’s hands running through Justin’s hair 'til they cupped the back of his head. He moved inside Justin. Their foreheads pressed together. Both of them had their eyes open though neither could focus.  
  


And when they came they stayed like that. Until Brian wrapped his arms around Justin’s waist and rolled them back to his side of the bed, Justin lying on top of him. “Fuck.”  
  


Brian smiled. “That what you needed?”  
  


Justin’s hands carded through Brian’s hair. “It’s a start.”  
  


Brian lifted an eyebrow. “A start?”  
  


“Yeah, we’ll do that again in the morning.”  
  


Brian shook his head. “I have to be at work in five hours.”  
  


Justin kissed him gently and rolled off of Brian. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you get home.”  
  


Brian slept. Justin lay awake listening to him breathe. Feeling like maybe things might be getting back to normal. He eventually drifted off.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian ignored the slight tightening in his chest as he walked into the building. He ignored the way his heart was beating a little too fast in the elevator. He ignored the desire to turn around and run when he opened the doors to KinnetiK NY. He put his game face on and walked with confidence to his office.  
  


He was relieved to find it empty. He was a little worried he’d find Ted there again. His relief was short lived. Ted showed up with a stack of papers and an armful of art boards before he’d managed to read the first of the little pink phone messages scattered across his desk.  
  


“Theodore.”  
  


“Brian, thank god. These need your signature.” Ted dropped the pile of papers on his desk unceremoniously.  
  


“Do I need to know what I’m signing?”  
  


“The new Brown contracts. We’re upping our percentage and raising our rates by fifteen percent. They’ve already approved it.”  
  


Brian nodded and signed where indicated, initialing at the yellow post-its. “And the rest?”  
  


“You may want to go over some of it. Remson has a new anti-depressant they think will change the world and their accountant had some creative methodology in his plans for reimbursement for our services.”  
  


Brian looked up at Ted who smiled. “I was more creative. We’ll come out ahead, way ahead.”  
  


Brian nodded and put the contract to the side to read in detail later. “Anything else?”  
  


“The new boards for _Connx_ are done, but you might not want to approve them.”  
  


“Why not?”  
  


“They’re…”  
  


Brian held out his hand impatiently and Ted reluctantly handed him the boards. He studied them with a frown as Cynthia slipped into his office. “Allen Grandmark wants to set up a meeting.”  
  


Brian looked up from the artwork he’d been mentally dissecting. “When?”  
  


“He’s been asking since Thursday.”   
  


“Set it up for this Friday.”  
  


“I’m not sure he’ll wait that long.”  
  


“He’ll have to. I’ve been trying to nail him for the last year. This time he can wait.”  
  


Cynthia nodded and looked like she was about to say something. Brian shot her a look and she shook her head and left. Brian turned his attention back to the boards. “These suck. Who do I need to scare the shit out of?”  
  


“I’ll do it.”  
  


Brian looked at Ted and almost smiled. He’d come a long way. “I know you want to but I think this needs to come from me.”  
  


Ted nodded and gave him the names. Brian took the boards and his nasty attitude with him as he headed towards the art department. Brian was in rare form. The boards went flying across the art department. Heads turned, men cowered, someone was fired. The campaign ideas were clarified and Brian stalked back to his office feeling much better. This he could do.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin woke up sometime before noon and didn’t bother to shower. He had an idea and needed to get started. By four he was hungry, sweaty, and really satisfied with where the piece was going. He debated ignoring the hunger but by five he couldn’t and went to make himself a sandwich.  
  


He was too anxious to get back to work to actually do more than eat the food in component pieces. He shoved a slice of turkey into his mouth and looked around for some bread. They didn’t have any. He made a mental note to call and order groceries, or maybe even brave the outside world and go to the market. He was compiling a list in his head when he heard the hushed sound of Aaron crying. Aaron’s door was shut. He wasn’t sure if Lee was here or not. He looked around for any sign he might be. But Lee’s bag, a seemingly permanent fixture on the counter lately was not there. He tentatively knocked on Aaron’s door.  
  


“Go away.”  
  


“You okay?”  
  


“Fine.”  
  


“Can I come in?”  
  


“No.”  
  


Aaron's voice was thick and Justin could hear the tears being held back. He wanted to push the door open and press further but hesitated. Lee let himself in and found Justin standing at Aaron’s door.  
  


“He’s crying.”  
  


Lee shrugged. “Yeah?”  
  


“He does that a lot?”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“Fuck.”  
  


“He’ll be okay. Leave him alone.”  
  


“I’m his brother.”  
  


“No shit. He needs some time. He hates crying in front of people.”  
  


“Does he cry in front of you?”  
  


“Doors are thin. I can hear you.”  
  


Lee laughed. “Justin, go finish painting. I’ve got this.”  
  


Justin wanted to say something more but he had no fucking clue what to say. He went back to his studio. Lee slowly pushed the door open and Justin heard them talking. He relaxed a little. Maybe Lee really did have this.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*  
  


Brian’s desk wasn’t clear even after plowing through it for most of the day. He’d jotted a few ideas for Grand Hospitality, Grandmark’s company. They would be a major coup; they owned several dozen five star boutique hotels across the country. They were widely known for discretion and luxury. Yeah, this he could do. Somewhere after nine he called it a day and headed home.   
  


He could hear the harried sound of pressured employees in the art department and smiled as he pushed the elevator button. It was actually good to be back.  
  


When he got home he was greeted to the comforting sound of crap music blaring from the studio and the strong smell of paint. He knocked and pushed the door open. Justin greeted him with a smile. “Hi.”  
  


“Hi.”  
  


Brian was standing behind Justin, careful not to touch him. He was covered in paint. “It’s good.”  
  


“It’s not done.”  
  


“You’re wearing my shirt.”  
  


“An old one.”  
  


“It wasn’t old yesterday.”  
  


“It was, you just didn’t notice. See, the collar’s all frayed and it’s missing a button.” Justin lifted the bottom of the shirt up for Brian’s inspection. Brian wasn’t looking at the shirt; although he knew the collar was NOT frayed and had a feeling Justin had removed the button himself. It was the flash of skin, just above Justin’s waistband that caught, and kept, his attention.   
  


“Let’s go out.”  
  


“Out?”  
  


“Out. Drugs, alcohol, music, men.”  
  


“Oooh, out. Yeah. I remember out.”  
  


Brian took the paintbrush out of Justin’s hand carefully and started to drag him to the bedroom. “Shower, then out.”  
  


“Very out.”  
  


“Really out.”  
  


“Extremely out.”  
  


Brian pulled his desecrated shirt off of Justin and was working at his pants. Justin leaned in and Brian shook his head. “You’ve already ruined my shirt, lets not kill the suit too.”  
  


Justin started the water while Brian removed his suit and joined him. Justin turned around in his arms. “You sure you want to go out?”  
  


“It was my idea.”  
  


“Oh yeah.”  
  


“Are you stoned?”  
  


“Nope, but I want to be.”  
  


“We can arrange that.”  
  


“Good. Out, stoned, drugs, music, men. This sounds good.” Justin was moving his mouth down Brian’s chest as he spoke and when he was on his knees he took Brian fully into his mouth. Brian’s hands were in Justin’s hair and he felt his knees go a little weak as Justin’s hands cupped his ass and his wet soapy fingers started to slide between his crack.  
  


He opened his mouth to say something but leaned his head back against the tile wall and just let it happen. He felt as if something coiled tightly inside was loosening as Justin’s wet mouth worked his shaft and when he came he leaned his entire body against the wall, leaning down to kiss Justin and holding him tightly for a moment.   
  


They finished showering relatively quickly after that and Brian spent the next twenty minutes listening to Justin mock him as he picked a shirt.  
  


“Shut up.”  
  


“Why?”  
  


“Just do it.”  
  


“But that shirt looks exactly the same.”  
  


“Fuck off.”  
  


“Explain the difference.”  
  


Brian sighed. “No. Just because you think that…” he gestured with his head at Justin’s ensemble “is appropriate club wear, doesn’t mean I have to lower my standards.”  
  


“I look fine.”  
  


Brian nodded absently and eventually pulled a dark blue t-shirt over his head. Justin was wearing strategically faded jeans and a red shirt that Brian had bought him last year sometime. Brian pulled Justin closer and examined them both in the mirror. He nodded his head in approval and shoved several condoms and some lube into the pocket of his black jeans.  
  


“Did you want to make sure we matched?”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Needed to make sure we didn’t.”  
  


Justin laughed and they were about to leave when he stopped. “We should tell Aaron we’re going.” He walked away from Brian and tapped on Aaron’s door. No answer. He pushed lightly and Brian and Justin both stood still for a second at the image. Aaron’s face was pressed against Lee’s chest. Lee’s arms wrapped around him. Holding him tightly, they were both asleep. It was… kinda touching.  
  


Brian pulled Justin away and quietly shut the door.  
  


“Shit.”  
  


“What?”  
  


“I just didn’t… I guess I figured.”  
  


“Didn’t think Lee was the cuddling type?”  
  


“They look so… comfortable.”  
  


Brian shrugged. “They are. So what?”  
  


Justin shook his head. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.”  
  


Brian wrapped his arm around Justin’s shoulders and guided him out the door. “They’re comfortable, they’re fine. Let’s go.”  
  


“Right, drugs, music, men, alcohol.”  
  


They hailed a cab.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin chewed the E and chased it with a shot of tequila. Brian gave him a look and he smiled. Brian smiled back and downed his second shot. He pulled Justin to the dance floor.   
  


It wasn’t quite dancing, Justin thought to himself. But then it was never exactly dancing with Brian. It was more… it was an exercise in sense surround erotica. There was no part of his body that didn’t ache to be in closer contact with Brian. And Brian’s response made it clear that he felt the same way. His mouth was everywhere, any piece of exposed skin. His eyes, his ears, his throat. And Justin couldn’t seem to keep still. He needed more. Brian’s ears, his lips, his cheeks, his arm. Whatever was there needed to be kissed, tasted, savored. They were moving slowly, not exactly with the beat but they didn’t care. He didn’t care. He was flying and Brian was holding him. Not holding him down, just keeping him from free falling.  
  


He turned around in Brian’s arms and Brian’s cock was pressed against his ass. His hand were sliding under his shirt, laying flat across his belly as he moved, as they moved against each other. He felt Brian’s mouth on his neck leaned his head back further. Brian’s mouth was wet, he was mumbling something Justin couldn’t hear or understand but the vibrations sent chills down his spine.   
  


Brian's hands were on his hips now, turning him back around. Forehead to forehead, Brian’s knees bent so that they were the same height. His hands running down Justin’s back. Sliding slowly under the waistband of his jeans. Justin smiled widely. “You could fuck me right here.”  
  


Brian shook his head.  
  


“Do it. Brian, god, you’re so hot, fuck me here.”  
  


Brian was smiling and pulling Justin off the dance floor. Justin knew his smile was wide. He could almost feel his cheeks hurting. The smile dimmed when he realized they were back at the bar. He tried to pout prettily, that usually did the trick. He leaned in to Brian’s chest. “You can’t fuck me at the bar. You went the wrong way.”  
  


Brian handed Justin a bottle of water and took a long swallow of beer. “Drink that.”  
  


“I’m not that wasted.”  
  


“Wanna go to the back room?”  
  


Justin nodded.  
  


“Drink that.”  
  


Justin pouted and drank more than half the bottle in a single swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Happy?”  
  


Brian pulled him by his belt loops back to the dance floor. “Ecstatic.”  
  


Justin leaned against him again. “You smell sooo good.”  
  


“Because you’re wasted.”  
  


“Not wasted. Just flying. You’re hot. HEY!”  
  


“Hmmm?”   
  


Brian’s mouth was against Justin’s neck and he was having trouble concentrating. When his hand cupped his cock through his jeans his thoughts went skittering.  
  


They danced a little more. Their arms and legs entangled in one another. Justin moved away a little and found himself dancing with a tall muscled guy who wasn’t Brian. He looked over to find Brian watching in amusement as he danced with some one who was definitely not him. Justin reached out an arm for Brian who took his hand and pulled him closer. This phased neither of the other men, who continued dancing with the both of them.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Justin was flying pretty high, and looking to go higher. Brian gave him another tab of E and Justin smiled. “I’ll drink more water I promise.”  
  


Brian smiled then too, the kid could be such a fucking twat.   
  


Justin’s mouth continued to find places on Brian’s body to worship. He nuzzled lower stretching out the neck of Brian’s shirt. Brian pulled his head back up but could barely resist that smile. He kissed his forehead, his eyes, his throat, the inside of his arm. And then he couldn’t take it anymore. Justin’s hands were moving lower, his body pressed against Brian’s. “Backroom Brian, please.”  
  


Brian nodded almost imperceptibly and pushed off the men who were dancing with/near them. Justin was moving with determination. Brian followed with a half smile, but made sure never to lose sight of him. He really was pretty fucking tweaked.  
  


He stopped when Justin did, leaning against the wall, his breathing shallow with need. His lips slightly parted, red, and shiny. Brian's mouth descended and he wanted to swallow the kid whole. Justin giggled into the kiss and Brian pulled back. “Something funny?”  
  


“You want to eat me.”   
  


Brian arched an eyebrow and Justin lifted his shirt just a little. Brian wanted to curse the little twat. But he was drunk and stoned and couldn’t tear his eyes away from that same flat pale expanse of skin that had made him want to take him out in the first place. He moved lower and licked at Justin’s navel. Justin’s head fell backwards against the hard cinderblock of the wall. He groaned loudly and Brian stood up. Justin looked at him. “Not here huh?”  
  


Brian kissed Justin again and Justin twisted his body, turning his head only at the last possible second as if it might be painful to lose that contact.   
  


Brian’s hands were pushing Justin’s shirt up. Justin lifted his arms and Brian pulled it over his head. He kissed his shoulders, kissed his neck, his hands moving quickly to lower his jeans.   
  


The condom was on in seconds and as he reached for the lube Justin shook his head. “Don’t need it.”  
  


“Justin.”  
  


Justin turned his head and smiled and Brian pushed his finger inside him and groaned. “You’re such a slut.”  
  


“I’m just… prepared.”  
  


And he was. And the image of Justin lubing himself before he even got dressed made Brian lose what small control he hand left. He thrust into him and Justin’s groans were loud. Brian leaned forward and chanced a look around the room. Several heads had turned at the sound and Brian flashed a wicked grin at one of the men eyeing them. He angled his hips and pushed in again, eliciting a gasp that echoed against the wall and seemed to captivate his audience further.  
  


Justin’s hand reached back for Brian’s head but Brian trapped both of Justin’s wrists with one of his own and continued to move. Justin’s back was arching, his ass angling to take Brian deeper. His legs spreading of their own accord and his groans and gasps continued to attract attention.  
  


Brian used his free hand to stroke Justin’s cock in rhythm with his own thrusts. Feeling Justin squeeze around him, hearing Justin moan his name. His chin was on Justin’s shoulder and he whispered into Justin’s ear. “I want to hear you. Come for me. Let them know what they’re missing.”  
  


Justin smiled and moaned more loudly. He wasn’t faking a thing but he was no longer holding back. Not a part of him was restrained or inhibited as he pushed back against Brian’s hard strokes and moaned his pleasure to the world and when they both came, one of Brian’s arms was around Justin’s torso, the other draped over his shoulder. Brian knew he’d have fallen to his knees if he weren’t there to hold him up. He felt him trembling against him. He turned him slowly and lifted his chin with a fingertip. Justin sucked on Brian’s thumb, which had found it’s way into his mouth.   
  


Brian replaced the thumb with his tongue as he pulled Justin’s pants back up stopping their kiss only for the time it took to pull his shirt over his head.   
  


Justin leaned against Brian’s chest for another moment and then pulled him backwards out of the back room. “Dance with me.”  
  


“I just did.”  
  


“That was fucking.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“Buy me a drink.”  
  


“Yes dear.”  
  


Justin laughed and kissed Brian and led him back to the bar.  
  


They drank some more. They danced some more. Justin couldn’t seem to stop smiling and Brian had never been more relieved to see him tweaked and out of his mind. Sometime after three they decided to head home.  
  


They were less than a block from the club and hailing a cab when Justin turned and yelled. Brian had been paying more attention to the traffic than the noises of the people behind him. He turned when Justin twisted his arm out of his grasp.   
  


He heard what the men were saying then. Some nasty homophobic comments. Nothing either of them hadn’t heard before. Brian couldn’t see Justin’s face, he heard the anger in his words as he spat an insult back and took a step closer to the men.  
  


Brian cursed taking three quick steps and putting himself between Justin and the idiots taunting him. He pulled Justin by the arm and started backing away, unwilling to turn his back fully on these guys.  
  


He felt the moment reality hit. Justin’s arms wrapped around his waist tightly and this time Justin wasn’t shaking from pleasure. Brian pulled him away from the assholes, hurling a few choice insults at them and hailed a cab. They got in quickly. Justin was crying and Brian was furious and they were both shaking. He gave the guy their address and silently cursed the world.


	11. Chapter 11

Safe Keeping 11

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Eleven   


* * *

  
  


 

“Fuck, oh fuck, of fucking fuck, fuck.”  
  


Brian pulled Justin closer “Shhhh.” He wanted to discuss this logically but Justin was still tweaked, and drunk. Nothing to do but ride this out and keep him from freaking completely.  
  


“No... Brian, fuck. We just… I just, almost... Did he have a knife? Are they following us?”  
  


Justin looked out the window of the cab and Brian moved his hand to the side of Justin’s head. Turning his face 'til their eyes met. “They’re not following. They’re just assholes.”  
  


“No. Not _just_ assholes Brian. They’re… what if they were the ones? Do you think that was the guy who hurt Aaron? Brian fuck we have to go back.” Justin leaned forward to get the driver’s attention. Brian pulled him back and shook his head at the driver whose eyes were questioning him in the rearview mirror.  
  


He held Justin against his chest and whispered against the top of his head, “random. They’re not the guys. They’re just…”  
  


“Don’t. Brian, please don’t. Oh holy fuck what if… I mean, they could have... I can’t believe I blamed Aaron and I just did the same fucking thing I’m such an idiot.” Justin was pounding his fist into his thigh.  
  


Brian silently urged the cab driver to get them home quickly. He wrapped his fingers around Justin’s wrist. No need for the kid to beat himself up. No need for any of this. He controlled his own fear while he held Justin.  
  


“Justin. Shhhh.”  
  


“Brian I could have... Oh my god, I mean I almost… what the fuck was I thinking?”  
  


“You weren’t.”  
  


“I have to think more.”  
  


“You usually do.”  
  


“This could have been… bad.”  
  


Justin’s voice was shaky. Brian wasn’t sure he was even aware of the tears. It was just emotional overload. He pulled Justin until the kid was practically on his lap. Justin's head was pressed into Brian’s neck. “Hmmm?”  
  


Justin was mumbling and Brian couldn’t quite understand him. Justin repeated it but Brian still couldn’t hear him. He stroked the nape of Justin’s neck, running his fingers through the soft blonde hair and hoped against reason Justin would forget this when he woke up.  
  


They pulled up in front of their building and Brian pried the money out of his pocket. It wasn’t easy, Justin seemed attached at the hip, and the arm, and the shoulder. Brian wondered if he’d have to carry him piggyback into the building. They got out of the cab and Justin seemed to center himself again. He walked, on shaky legs, but of his own volition. They rode the elevator in silence. They undressed and slid into bed in silence. Brian thought they might be able to get past this. They may be able to just pretend it was a bad dream. No such luck.  
  


As soon as he’d pulled Justin closer, his arm laying across his waist, his head tucked under his chin, Justin started talking and Brian could feel Justin’s breathing change, and his heart rate speed up. Justin’s heart seemed to be beating through is back and directly into Brian’s chest. He pulled him closer. Justin didn’t stop talking. Brian had no good response. Tweaked Justin was never easy to quiet down. But he was supposed to be happy. He was supposed to be rambling about something ridiculous so Brian could roll his eyes, humor him, and then fuck him to sleep. That might not work this time.   
  


“Brian it can’t just be random. If it’s just random we can’t ever leave the house. If it’s just random then I’m never leaving. If it’s just random I’m never letting you leave. I can’t live like that. I can’t live not knowing from one minute to the next if some asshole is gonna be upset that we love each other and both have cocks. I can’t Brian so it can’t be random. This isn’t random. Maybe they know us. Maybe we know them. Was it someone you pissed off? Was it the guy you fired today? Maybe the guy you fired today is going to sue you. Do you think he’d show up with a gun, or a bat?”  
  


Brian froze. He wanted to promise Justin nothing like that would ever happen but… This was random. There were no guarantees. He thought maybe neither of them ever leaving was a damn good idea. The thought… the absolutely heart-stoppingly painful thought that this is random, that it could have been worse, that it had been worse. That there was no way to guarantee Justin that nothing like that would ever happen again, to them, to those they loved, to anyone. He pulled back from Justin and then spread his body over his. Holding himself up on his arms. He looked into scared blue eyes and he wanted to whisper softly, “you’re safe. I promise.” But he couldn’t. He could NOT lie, not now, not really ever, not about things he accepted as fundamental truth.  
  


He kissed Justin instead and felt him respond. Felt his tongue press inside his mouth. Felt his soft lips. Heard the soft sounds he made in the back of his throat. “We’ll be okay.”   
  


Justin pushed Brian back a little. He shook his head. “You don’t know that.”  
  


“It’ll be…”  
  


“Don’t make promises Brian. It won’t be anything but fucked up.”  
  


Brian’s hips thrust against Justin’s body. Distracting them both seemed like the best option at the moment.  
  


“You’re trying to distract me.”  
  


Brian nodded. He didn’t lie.  
  


“It’s not gonna work.”  
  


“Worth a try.”  
  


“What if…”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Bad game to play.”  
  


“We’re playing games?”  
  


Brian’s caress became more insistent. His mouth came down hard against Justin's. Sucking the air out of him. Leaving nothing of the incident for him to think about. Leaving nothing at all for him to think about but this. “No games.” He whispered, his voice deep even to his own ears.  
  


“Games are fun.”  
  


Justin was smiling now and Brian’s breath caught in his throat. It was stupid. It was lesbionic. It was fucking astounding how Justin could still leave him literally breathless. He was… beautiful. So fucking beautiful it hurt. His hair, his skin, the way he could go from scared and vulnerable to cocky and playful in 0.2 seconds. The way he stroked his fingers through his hair. The way he communicated some sort of understanding and comfort and acceptance of all of it in a span of time that existed only in their world, together.   
  


“I want you Brian. I want you forever.”  
  


“You’ve got me.”  
  


Justin closed his eyes then, and that was another thing Brian loved. Justin's trust. He wasn’t stupid, there was no such thing as forever and they both knew it, but he trusted. He loved. He felt. And Brian wondered sometimes how he still trusted and loved _him_. He’d learned to stop questioning it too much. Questioning it pissed Justin off; got him a lecture on deserving to be loved, and proved sometimes, how off the mark Justin was. It didn’t matter. Right now, his pale, perfect skin, his warm strong body, his heart and his fucking soul were all being offered. Not as a sacrifice, as a gift. They were there, and wanting, and Brian wanted too. And so he put the condom on quickly and slid inside him.  
  


They were together, in the most primal way, and the most transcendent. They were together in every way they knew how to be. In hope, and fear, and love, and Justin couldn’t seem to stop saying Brian’s name and Brian couldn’t seem to find a single intelligible word. They were blocked behind the wall he’d put up the moment those fuckers had started talking, or the moment he’d realized Justin was confronting them. It didn’t matter. They were gone. All words, gone, and that’s fine. This worked better. This _was_ better than words. This was… everything.  
  


They fell asleep holding each other, needing the reassurance of the others presence.  
  


Justin woke up several hours later in a cold sweat. The fact that there was no water on his nightstand spoke volumes about Brian’s state of mind when they got home. He never forgot to leave him water after a night of serious clubbing. There had been more important issues last night, earlier this morning, whatever.  
  


He stood up and went to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face, running his hands through his hair. He was shaking a little, maybe because of the nightmare, maybe because of the E, maybe because of life. He got his own water and came back to bed. He sat for a while, watching Brian sleep. Brian turned, his arm now draped over Justin’s thighs. Justin moved his hand away. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep. He finished the water, pulled on a pair of sweat pants and padded barefoot to the studio.  
  


Brian found him there several hours later.  
  


“Hey.”  
  


“You been up long?”  
  


Justin shrugged. “Couple of hours.”  
  


Brian moved further into the studio, but tentatively. Justin didn’t say anything. He knew Brian always tread softly in this space, and appreciated it. He needed space that was just _his_. Justin leaned in to peck his cheek, letting him know his presence was not unwelcome and he felt Brian relax a little. He pushed back the slightly guilty feeling he sometimes encountered about this. People assumed Brian was the one to close doors, put up barriers. He wasn’t. Justin knew that was because Brian didn’t need physical space to remove himself from a situation. He’d perfected the art of withdrawing while still being physically present.   
  


Justin went back to working on an intricate section of the canvas. He felt Brian watching him, waiting for his hand to tremor. He stopped after a few minutes and shook his hand out, smiling. “It’s a lot better since the surgery. Four sometimes five hours without an issue. Brian nodded and Justin bit his lip at Brian’s expression. He hated when he got called on being overly observant. Sometimes Justin marveled at how much Brian had changed. Sometimes he relished those things that probably never would. Justin put his brush down, at a good stopping place for the moment. “Breakfast?”  
  


Brian shrugged and Justin brushed past him. “I’m hungry.”  
  


He poured them each juice and started a fresh pot of coffee. Brian was being oddly quiet, even for Brian. He waited. Waiting usually worked.  
  


They drank the coffee in silence. Brian was picking at his toast. Justin was demolishing his bagel. Brian finally spoke. “Last night was random.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“You have to be…”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“I didn’t finish.”  
  


“More careful?”  
  


“I was going to say aware.”  
  


“Okay, I’ll be more aware that random acts of homophobia happen all the fucking time.”  
  


“That’s not what I meant.”  
  


“Still not a bad idea.”  
  


“Probably not. You have to know that it’s a possibility and then… move on.”  
  


“Like you?”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“You don’t move on…”  
  


“Not about me.”  
  


“Not talking about that.”  
  


“Then what?”  
  


Justin popped the last of the bagel into his mouth, chewed, swallowed and then took a long drink of juice. Brian seemed to be waiting for an answer and Justin smiled at him. “I have no fucking clue.”  
  


“Asshole.”  
  


Justin nodded and opened the fridge to put the juice back. “I’m going grocery shopping.”  
  


“I’ve got to get moving, it’s almost eleven and I should at least show up at the office today.”  
  


“Yeah, we both need to…”  
  


Brian launched of the kitchen stool, kissed Justin and headed towards the shower. “Coming?”  
  


Justin smiled and ignored the sesame seeds on the counter.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Justin came in with half a dozen grocery bags in his arms. Lee and Aaron were finishing a pizza. Lee feigned shock. “Actual groceries?”  
  


“Fuck you and grab a bag before I drop the eggs.”  
  


“Real eggs?”  
  


Justin shot him a withering look and took a few of the bags out of Justin’s hand. Justin flexed his fingers a few times and hoped he hadn’t just used most of the muscle strength that he needed to work in the studio on carrying the groceries home. Next time he was definitely having them delivered.   
  


He had planned on doing it this time but his stomach clenched at the thought of going out. He remembered thinking last night that he never wanted to leave the apartment again. He’d gone out. Fuck that. Not needing to leave and not being able to were two different things.  
  


Aaron was looking at him and he realized he’d missed a question. “What?”  
  


“Do you want the chicken in the freezer?”  
  


Justin shook his head. “I’ll cook it tonight.”  
  


“Cooking? When did you get domestic?”  
  


“When did you become a raging asshole?”  
  


“Jesus, I’m just kidding.”  
  


“Sorry. I hate shopping.”  
  


“Are you sure you’re gay?”  
  


“Last time I checked, I fuck guys.”  
  


“Good barometer.”  
  


“I thought so.”  
  


Aaron stood up and moved himself between Lee and Justin, helping himself to a Mountain Dew. Justin watched Lee watch Aaron and almost laughed. But then didn’t when Aaron swallowed another pill with the soda.   
  


“Your watch is fast.”  
  


Aaron grimaced at Lee, “yours is slow”.  
  


Justin moved to put the rest of the food in the cabinets, making sure everything was where it was supposed to be and facing in the right direction. Brian was a fucking psycho about shit like that. He pretended not to be watching the exchange. He didn’t miss any of it. He almost breathed a sigh of relief when the silent conversation ended with Aaron grudgingly handing Lee the pharmacy bottle. Lee had this.  
  


Brian came home after eight.  
  


“Rough day?”  
  


“No, and I thought we decided not to be married.”  
  


“So I can’t ask about your day even if I’m interested?”  
  


“Maybe. Smells good.”  
  


“Yeah, felt like cooking.”  
  


“Stuck?”  
  


“No, just needed to take a break. I think Lee’s got the whole, Aaron and the meds thing under control.”  
  


“You refill his prescription today?”  
  


“Yeah when I went shopping.”  
  


“Me too.”  
  


“You went shopping?”  
  


Brian picked up a snow pea from the bowl and shook his head. “No, I refilled his prescription.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“Lee doesn’t have this.”  
  


Justin seemed to slump in front of the stove. “Fuck.”  
  


“We’ll take care of it.”  
  


“How?”  
  


“Designate one person to fill the scrips to start.”  
  


“Okay, but not Lee.”  
  


“Why not?”  
  


“Because he thinks he has this and he doesn’t.”  
  


“You think he has it. I think he’s just unaware of how much he doesn’t.”  
  


“I don’t want to hand more of this shit off to him.”  
  


“You do the guilt thing well.”  
  


“Learned from the master.”  
  


Brian walked towards the bedroom and Justin finished dinner. They were eating in front of the television, Brian in jeans now. “Not bad.”  
  


“I have more work to do in the studio.”  
  


“Figured. Gotta handle some client maintenance myself.”  
  


“How far behind are you?”  
  


“Don’t want to think about it.”  
  


“Want me to talk to Aaron?”  
  


Brian shook his head. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”  
  


“What about Lee.”  
  


“I’ll get this.”  
  


“I think…”  
  


“Don’t think.”  
  


“Fuck you.”  
  


“That’s one way of stopping the thought process.”  
  


“Jesus, Brian.”  
  


Brian pecked him on the cheek and took the dishes to the sink. Justin watched him anally clean the kitchen and put all the dishes in the dishwasher. “I’m stealing your office.”   
  


Justin nodded and considered going back into the studio but decided to kill a little time playing a video game first.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


Well, that went well. Justin’s now got more to worry about and is blaming himself. Nice job Kinney. He had to know. I had to tell him. Lee can’t handle this. I’ll handle this. Justin doesn’t handle his siblings well. He hates when I do it. Well, he hated it. He might be ready to accept that I can handle Aaron. Hell, I was handling Aaron longer than he was. And the kid…, the other kid, Aaron, he’s in over his head…again.  
  


I use Justin’s computer. Well, his desktop. His laptop is probably in the studio. The brat has too many computers. The brat has too much stuff, and too much space. I should have negotiated better. How did he end up with an office _and_ the studio… I get um… the chair? Nope, not even that really. ‘S’okay, most of the time when I need to be alone I go out. It’s easier to be alone in the middle of a crowd, it really is. But right now I just need to send some appeasing emails to some royally pissed off clients. I need to think about what I’m gonna do for Grand Hospitality. I need to figure out exactly how to approach this with Aaron.  
  


Email from Gus. Dammit, I’ll call him tomorrow. It’s been too long. He made the team, not surprised. He wants new equipment…of course. He’s… goddamnedmotherfuckingshit…he’s been talking to Michael. I’m gonna have to do something about that. Lindsay sent an email right behind him telling me not to get too upset. Yeah, she knows me, doesn’t matter, I’m pissed.  
  


Okay, head in the game, deal with the clients, figure out the Grand Hospitality pitch and then… I have no clue. I know I should be doing something. There must be something to do but… no clue.  
  


It’s almost two by the time I finish and give up on a decent idea for the new campaign. Bed sounds good, better if Justin’s done in the studio and not asleep.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Justin never made it back to the studio. Every time he thought about it he decided he’d go as soon as he finished the level he was currently playing. He was now on level seventeen, and as soon as he finished that… he glanced up at the clock…fuck, almost two…well, if he finished this level by two he could… he felt Brian’s mouth on his neck. He saved the game and dropped the controller following him to the bedroom. Fuck the game.  
  


Brian was leering at him when he walked into the bedroom. Justin leered back and started to tug at the hem of Brian’s wife beater, pulling it over his head. Once the shirt was off Brian was returning the favor, tossing his t-shirt across the room and moving to the buttons of his jeans.  
  


Justin leaned in kissing Brian’s neck, appreciating the moment, the familiar dance, and the feel of Brian’s hands on his ass as he stepped forward out of his jeans.  
  


Brian's head dipped down and his mouth was covering Justin’s. His arms were encircling him and Justin felt dwarfed, in that safe and dominated and sexy way that only Brian managed.  
  


He’d fucked guys taller, broader, more muscled. None of them were ever able to intimidate him the way Brian did. None of them made him feel small and protected and loved and completely at his mercy the way Brian did. None of them were Brian.  
  


Brian had a way of making himself seem taller, broader, just... bigger. Sometimes Justin imagined them together and he knew he had the proportions off. He was a fucking artist. He could draw an exact rendering of any part of Brian’s body. He was Brian’s partner. He knew exactly where, in reality, his head came to in relation to Brian’s body when they stood next to each other and yet, somehow, he’d picture them together at times like this and the image was always skewed. He’d ponder it more if Brian’s mouth wasn’t currently moving lower down his chest, licking and sucking at his nipples. His hands guiding him, directing him, and finally pushing him back against the wall. Brian's mouth was on his belly now. His tongue dipping into his navel, and then trailing down to lick at the head of his cock. Justin leaned his head back and moaned.  
  


He felt Brian’s hands on his hips and knew that the best chance at any control was to run his fingers through Brian’s hair. He did, but then braced his hands flat against the wall, fingers splayed as he felt Brian's throat constrict around the head of his cock. He bit his lip and moaned a little louder as he glanced down and saw the top of his head. Watched his lips wrapped around his shaft, working it. He came quickly and Brian sat back, smiling. Justin dropped down to the floor, not sure his knees would support him. He moved closer until he was practically sitting in Brian’s lap, kissing him.  
  


Brian’s hands were everywhere. His mouth was following them. Kissing Justin’s shoulders, his neck, his ears, his chest, and his arms. Justin moved lower then, to return the favor but Brian pulled him back up. “I want to fuck you.”   
  


Goosebumps prickled all over Justin’s body as the words vibrated in his ear. He let himself flop back onto the area rug and Brian was on top of him, still kissing him. “Not here, on the bed. I’m gonna ride you hard.”  
  


Justin moaned and wasn’t sure he could move but Brian offered him his hand and he took it crawling onto the bed, lifting himself onto his knees and hearing Brian’s breathing, heavy and fast. He turned his head to see him. Brian was a vision. The only light in the room coming from the open bathroom door. He was half in shadow. The planes of his face were softened. The hue of his skin darkened. Justin shuddered and thought he might come before Brian even touched him. Brian stalked towards him and Justin felt the head of his cock pressing against his hole.   
  


He tried to push back, wanted Brian inside him but Brian was waiting. There were times when Justin new Brian did it to tease him. He knew this wasn’t one of those times. This was about gathering strength, savoring the moment, and then letting loose and Brian did, plunging in hard and fast. Justin’s head dropped to the mattress and Brian’s rhythm remained punishing and brutal. Justin starched his spine, arched back and felt Brian sink deeper. He groaned. Brian was leaning over him now, one hand holding his, the other on his hip. Brian’s hips snapped against his ass and his cock dragged over his prostate and Justin knew he was close. Too close, too soon… he wanted to say something, ask Brian to slow down. He moaned instead and Brian’s hand left his hip and was around his cock now. Justin bucked into it. Fucking Brian’s fist, then impaling himself further on Brian’s cock.  
  


A moment ago he wanted to beg him to slow down, now he wanted it faster, harder. Now he needed to come and he felt it spread through his body. It was pure, liquid heat, better than E, better than anything. And he let himself go. Let himself come and felt Brian’s thrusts speed up and he clenched around Brian’s orgasm, dragging it from him.  
  


They collapsed.   
  


Brian finished his cigarette and Justin was on his side, one arm over Brian’s chest. “So what happened?”  
  


“Hmmmm?”  
  


“Something, an email, a phone call, something.”  
  


“I can’t just want to fuck you?”  
  


“You pretty much always want to fuck me. That’s not what I asked.”  
  


“You think you…”  
  


“Brian, what happened?”  
  


“Michael’s talking to Gus.”  
  


“Goddamnedmotherfuckingshit.”  
  


Brian lit another cigarette. Justin took it out of his hand, took a drag and the stubbed it out. “Lung cancer won’t solve this. What’s he talking to him about?”  
  


“Seeing them on Thanksgiving.”  
  


“That’s not for…”  
  


“Six weeks.”  
  


“Oh shit.”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“Um…”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“Okay so we’re doing thanksgiving.”  
  


Brian looked at him with what Justin recognized as a tinge of fear.  
  


“Are you afraid I’ll burn the turkey or that it’ll seem too domestic?”  
  


“Both.”  
  


“Well, I wasn’t planning on cooking. Can’t you hire people for shit like that?”  
  


Brian visibly relaxed and Justin slapped him good-naturedly. “I should cook, just so you can die of embarrassment.”  
  


“And food poisoning.”  
  


“I can cook.”  
  


“Not like this.”  
  


“Probably not. Gonna miss Deb’s sweet potatoes.”  
  


“She pours maple syrup on the canned kind and cooks them 'til they’re almost burnt.”  
  


“That’s it?”  
  


“Yeah, I’ve seen her do it.”  
  


“I think I can probably burn sweet potatoes.”  
  


“Not like Debbie.”  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“I tried once, it’s this special pan she only uses for that, or something, or maybe it’s how fucked up her oven is…whatever, can’t be done.”  
  


“How exactly do you know this?” Justin looked at Brian skeptically.  
  


“I’ve tried.”  
  


“When?”  
  


“College. Debbie and Michael went to see Vic in New York. Junior year, I had an apartment. Lindsay wasn’t speaking to her family, she’d finally come out, and we tried. We failed.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“Justin, ask Lindsay, six times, we tried, six times. You can NOT burn them right. It’s a trick only Debbie knows. It’ll die with her.”  
  


“So we’ll order sweet potatoes.”  
  


“Lindsay might want to go to Pittsburgh. She’s got family, and I’m sure Gus wants to see Mel.”  
  


“We’ll do Thanksgiving here. My mom, Alicia, maybe fly my sister in.”  
  


“This is getting…”  
  


“Big.”  
  


“Annoying.”  
  


“Pfft. I’ve annoyed you far more than this.”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“So we’ll do it?’  
  


“Why not?”  
  


Justin smiled and leaned his head against Brian’s chest. “We’ll need to buy dishes, we only have service for eight.”  
  


“How many people were you planning on inviting, Princess?”  
  


“As many as I want. Lee and Aaron, obviously, and Matt, and I think Becca’s parents are in Istanbul, or um, someplace, so she’s probably plan free, and Jamison.”  
  


“Jamison?”  
  


“He and Matt are still together.”  
  


“Shit.”  
  


“So…”  
  


“We’ll rent dishes.”  
  


“Fine. We have no storage anyway.”  
  


“We have plenty of storage, you have too much shit.”  
  


“I should probably rent studio space, and we could use the studio for storage and living space.”  
  


“We’d be better off renting storage space.”  
  


Brian ran a hand through Justin’s hair. “You paint at weird hours. It would fuck up your creative flow.”  
  


“You just don’t want me wandering around the city at four in the morning.”  
  


Brian’s hand tightened a little around Justin’s waist and Justin knew that was the real reason. He didn’t say another word. He kissed Brian’s jaw. “Speaking of creative flow.”   
  


Brian shrugged and Justin found a pair of flannel pajama bottoms that were already covered in paint. He closed the bedroom door behind him and smiled. Thanksgiving, in his home, with Brian, and their family. He wanted a time machine so he could tell his eighteen year old self not to give up hope. He wanted to pinch himself to make sure this wasn’t a daydream of his eighteen-year-old self. Then he heard the bickering coming from Aaron's room and knew this wasn’t a fairy tale, or a daydream. This was just a good thing, and there was plenty to balance the equation in the other direction.  
  


He didn’t want to listen in, he couldn’t help overhearing a little and then he walked away. It was… he felt wrong listening to that. That was really between them.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Aaron’s POV  
  


I cannot believe Lee is bringing this up now. First we hear Brian and Justin, and well, that’s not new. Justin can’t seem to shut the hell up when Brian’s fucking him… okay, maybe he can’t do it with anyone, but I wouldn’t know. I’ve really mostly seen him with Brian… I don’t follow my brother into the backroom okay?   
  


But yeah, so it sounds like they’re fucking in my closet, but I’m guessing they’re just near that wall, whatever. Justin moans and whimpers. Brian lets out a loud grunt, and then we know it’s all clear for at least twenty minutes.   
  


Lee has to make an issue of it though… well, okay, not of the Brian/Justin thing because he’s not retarded, but we haven’t had sex in a while and he’s pissed off.  
  


At first I couldn’t. Hello, broken hip. So I’d blow him, and he’d blow me, and then we’d go to sleep and that worked. But he’s used to getting laid. We weren’t exclusive… then we were, then we weren’t. Now we are, but again, only because I’m a gimp. He’s talking about taking big exclusivity steps. Like tests and raw fucking and shit and I’m thinking… um, no.  
  


He thinks I don’t want to fuck him… I do. He thinks I don’t want him to fuck me… I do. He thinks I take too many pills and I’ve lost my sex drive. No. Well, maybe, but what am I supposed to do? It hurts. My hip hurts and my head hurts, and sometimes I swear I can feel the heat just radiating off the scar on my face. I know… I mean I absolutely KNOW that it’s never going to heal. The plastic surgeon did his thing three weeks ago, took out a lot of scar tissue, fixed it up, said it’d be undetectable by New Year’s and that it was right at the hairline anyway. I can feel it. I can feel people looking at me when we go out…which is one of the reasons we don’t go out.  
  


I also know Lee hates it. He runs his fingers along it, like he’s trying to prove to me, or himself that it’s no big deal, but it _is_ a big deal. I know that, and he can’t lie about it to me even if he’s gonna make a valiant effort. So I really don’t want him to fuck me. I just… the idea of my head buried in the mattress so he doesn’t have to look at me? I could just wear a bag over my head, would that help? And there’s no way my hip is up to fucking him face to face. It’s… complicated.   
  


Great, now I sound like my brother. It’s really probably not that complicated but I can’t let him fuck me when he can’t see my face and I can’t fuck him face to face so… no fucking.   
  


I’ve told him I’m fine. I’ve told him to go, get laid, find someone else. He sucks at listening to me.  
  


And now we’re having one of those “talks”, those “we need to talk”, talks. And I’m kind of hoping he’ll actually leave, and I’m a little scared that he’s going to leave and I hate that. So I take a vicoprofen and he glares at me. Okay right, every six hours on these, and it’s been… oops, less than three. He’s gonna mention that. He sets his watch by my meds…what’s up with that?   
  


So I’m pacing and he’s glaring again and I don’t know what the fuck he’s glaring at but then I see him stare meaningfully at that fucking brace and I think I’m gonna have to strangle him.   
  


Yeah, I’m walking, without my brace, two steps one way, two steps the other. I think we’re safe. He’s trying to be Brian. He’s trying to be protective. He’s being annoying.   
  


I want to storm out of the room and I can’t believe I thought I wanted to live with him… I must have been high…oh yeah, I probably was.  
  


This is all so fucking fucked. How did it get this fucked? Oh yeah, I got high and decided I could take on the world, and a couple of assholes. Maybe Lee and Brian and Justin are right, I’m too stupid to take care of myself.   
  


He’s moving towards me and I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or throttle me, or both, whatever he wants to do, he’s determined to do it. Fuck, he’s pushing me back on the bed and okay, kissing, not throttling. His hair is so soft, and black, like almost blue it’s so black, and his skin is really pale and he’s got these great lips. And he’s really the best fuck I’ve even known. I want to fuck him, I do, but if I do that, we’ll end up deeper in this shit together and that’s not where we should be. He should be running but he’s not, he’s holding me, and he’s running his finger along the scar again and telling me that he’s sorry, and I’m not sure what he’s apologizing for, and I don’t know if I can sit here and not cry for much longer. So I try to struggle out of his grip but he won’t let me go. He’s just holding me tighter and running his hands along the side of my face and telling me that he loves me. No he doesn’t. It seems like the right thing to say, and that’s why he’s saying it but I know he doesn’t love me. He can’t. No one can. Not like this. Not this broken, not this ugly.  
  


He’s pulling at our clothes now and I want to get up and walk away but I’m tired. The medicine is starting to hit me hard. The three beers… okay four beers and two shots that I had earlier aren’t helping and now I am crying. I’m laying on my stomach so he won’t see it but he’s right there next to me, on his side, and I turn my head and he turns it back. He’s just staring at me and he kisses me, and I want him. If I tell him I want him… how far is that gonna take us? How much longer 'til I can get him to run? How much longer will it keep him with me? Long enough for me to be as strong as I need to be to let him go?  
  


He’s not gonna fuck me while I’m crying. I know that. So I try to hold back the tears. I can’t. I’ve really tried, I’m trying now… it’s not working. So I’m crying like the useless baby that I am and he’s holding me, and I’m drunk, and I’m high, and I’m asking him to fuck me, and he’s doing it… He’s holding me against him. I’m on my side, on my good hip, which means he’s still stroking the scar on my face, and then running his hands down my body and he’s inside me and it feels so good. I want to tell him that he can leave when he’s done but I can’t talk. I want to beg him not to leave when he’s done but I can’t talk. And then I’m coming, and he’s still inside me and holding me to him, and I just drift off. I’ll worry about getting rid of him, or making sure he stays, tomorrow. Tonight, I think this is good.  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  


  
  
  


 


	12. Chapter 12

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Twelve   


* * *

  
  


 

Justin crawled back into bed and fell asleep about an hour before Brian had to get up. He pulled the pillow over his head when he heard the alarm. Brian shut it off quickly. He showered and dressed quietly… didn’t matter, Justin wouldn’t have heard him. he was sleeping like the dead. Brian felt some relief. Justin was sleeping, deeply, not listening with one ear and watching with one eye for the danger that might be lurking behind every shadow. That was improvement.  
  


The apartment was quiet. Lee and Aaron must still be asleep too. he decided to pick up coffee on the way to work and set the alarm before leaving.  
  


The office was already busy when he got there. It was only eight thirty but apparently Cynthia was on her third cup of coffee and Ted was on his third whateverthefuck he drank since he’d given up caffeine, as well as crystal and alcohol. They both converged at his desk the minute he sat down. Brian looked up with what he hoped to be a death glare. He really wasn’t in the mood.  
  


The look cowed neither of them. Cynthia started. “Grandmark wants a full pitch. I can’t get the art department to start without your notes.” She held out her hand expectantly and Brian leaned back I his chair.   
  


“No notes yet. I’ll have them by the end of the day.”  
  


Cynthia gave him a questioning look and his expression dared her to say a fucking word. She didn’t…smart woman. Instead she left a few things on his desk for approval and went back to her office to do whatever the hell she did that made sure the whole place didn’t come crashing down around his ears.  
  


“Ted.”  
  


“Brian, we’ve got some issues.” Ted sat down and pushed a few boards towards him.   
  


Brian frowned. “A few? Who the fuck did this?”  
  


Ted sighed. “They sent them from the Pittsburgh office.”  
  


“Go home Ted.”  
  


“Brian, are you sure…”  
  


“I’m sure. Thank you. You were needed here. Now,” Brian held up the offensively sloppy work, “you’re needed there.”   
  


Ted nodded.   
  


“Oh, and Theodore.”  
  


“Yes Bri?”  
  


“Justin’s decided to do some sort of Thanksgiving thing.”  
  


“Thing? As in, a turkey and trimmings and family, eating together.”  
  


“Yeah, a thing.”  
  


Ted nodded.  
  


“You and, you know, whoever you’re in love with at the moment are welcome.”  
  


“Blake, Brian. I’ve been with Blake for five years.”  
  


“Right, Blake, whatever, let Justin know so he can rent enough dishes.”  
  


Ted nodded and smiled. “Sure thing, if you know… “  
  


“Right, I know, Debbie, your choice. Your job doesn’t rest in the balance.”  
  


Ted smiled more widely. “I’ll be back in the Pittsburgh office by one, call me if you need anything.”  
  


Brian nodded and then frowned at the contracts Cynthia had left on his desk. He yelled for her and then cursed himself. She was just going to give him a lecture about using the intercom.  
  


He knew how to use a fucking intercom. Yelling was more effective when he wanted the rest of the staff to know not to fuck with him.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin woke up after two. He stretched and frowned. His phone was ringing. It was Brian. “What’s wrong?”  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“Then why are you calling?”  
  


“You’re becoming nocturnal.”  
  


“Pfft. I’ve been up for hours.”  
  


“A nocturnal liar.”  
  


“I had work to do.”  
  


“I think Ted’s coming to Thanksgiving.”  
  


“With Blake?”  
  


“I guess.”  
  


“Why do you act like you don’t remember they’re together.”  
  


“Who’s acting?”  
  


“Whatever.”  
  


“Grumpy.”  
  


“Tired.”  
  


“Go back to sleep.”  
  


“I will.”  
  


“Ha!”  
  


“What?”  
  


“I knew you were still asleep.”  
  


“Yes, you’re very wise.”  
  


“Remember that.”  
  


“Sometimes. You’re very wise, sometimes.”  
  


“Fuck you.”  
  


“Did you just call to wake me up and tell me about Ted?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“What’s up?”  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“Liar.”  
  


“Is Aaron awake?”  
  


“Um…”  
  


“You don’t know because you’re still in bed.”  
  


“Want me to go check?’  
  


“No.”  
  


“You gonna talk to him?”  
  


“Thinking about it.”  
  


“Want me to?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“I can handle this.”  
  


“No.”  
  


“Brian.”  
  


“Go back to sleep.”  
  


“Yes sir.”  
  


“Be awake when I get home.”  
  


“Sure, why not.”  
  


“Twat.”  
  


“Asshole.”  
  


“Later.”  
  


“Later.”  
  


Justin hung up the phone but couldn’t get back to sleep. He showered, pulled on the pants he’d been wearing last night and padded barefoot to the studio. He smiled. The piece was really starting to look good.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Aaron and Lee were arguing over methods to slay the dragon when Brian came home. The music blaring through the door meant that Justin was still in the studio. He left the Bickersons to their debate and changed out of his suit. It was almost nine.   
  


Brian was heating up some leftover something and debating kicking Lee out so that he could talk to Aaron when Justin appeared. “Hey.”  
  


“Hey.”  
  


Justin picked a mushroom off of Brian’s plate and ignored the warning glance. “You just get home?”  
  


Brian nodded. “You eat anything?”  
  


Justin foraged in the fridge and found some leftover baked ziti. He put the plate in the microwave to heat up. “I’m just getting around to it.” He opened a beer and offered one to Brian, who nodded.  
  


They both sat at the table and listed to Aaron and Lee tried different methods of killing the stomping, fire breathing beast and groaning their frustration when both their characters got fried in the attempt.  
  


“You gonna talk to him?” Justin asked quietly.  
  


Brian nodded and took a long pull from his beer bottle. Justin took both their plates to the sink. “I’ve got some office stuff to do, but I can get lost.”  
  


Brian shook his head and sat down on the chaise lounge near Lee and Aaron. Aaron offered him a controller; Brian took it but never activated his character. He watched the two of them play in tandem and debated methods of starting the conversation.  
  


He never did find a way to start the conversation. Aaron and Lee were heading to Aaron’s room. He stopped Lee and waited until Aaron shut the door. “Don’t refill his prescriptions.”  
  


“He needs them.”  
  


“I’ll do it.”  
  


Lee looked at him and opened his mouth to say something. Brian shook his head and Lee simply said, “okay.”  
  


Brian went to bed. It wasn’t that he was unsure of what to say to Aaron. That was easy, “cut it the fuck out”, would probably cover it. He was unsure what Aaron’s reaction might be. He needed to know he had Lee on his side or the kid could take off, live with Lee and fall deeper. He lit a cigarette and sat back in the chair, pouring himself a large glass of scotch.   
  


Justin came out of the studio almost an hour later. Brian was on his third scotch and fourth cigarette. Justin straddled him and took his glass, swallowing the last of the drink himself. “You talk to Aaron?”  
  


Brian shook his head. One hand on Justin’s thigh the other over his head on the headrest.   
  


“Maybe I should do it.”  
  


Brian shook his head again, turning it away keep from exhaling the smoke in Justin’s face.  
  


“You were supposed to quit a month ago.”  
  


Brian nodded and Justin leaned back. Brian lifted his knees and planted his feet on the chair so that Justin could use him as a backrest.   
  


“It’s time to quit.”  
  


“I will if Aaron will.”  
  


“Fine. I’ll talk to Aaron.”  
  


“Won’t work.”  
  


“He’ll listen to me.”  
  


“He won’t.”  
  


“What makes you so sure he’ll listen to you?”  
  


“He might not…better chance with me.”  
  


“I think he’s beyond the hero worship.”  
  


“Maybe, doesn’t mean he won’t listen.”  
  


Brian knew Justin wanted to say something more. Probably wanted to ask how he was holding up. He also knew Justin was too smart to ask. He saved him the trouble. “Ted went back to Pittsburgh today. Cynthia’s still getting a kick out of making all the interns kiss her ass. The grand hospitalities pitch is Friday and we’re seriously fucked. If my genius doesn’t kick in soon they’re going to go with some other agency, probably Strauss & Minner. How many pieces do you need for the new show?”  
  


“Four, it’s not a solo show. What does Grand Hospitalities want?”  
  


“Who the fuck knows. Something hot and edgy. We stayed there once.”  
  


“We did?”  
  


“Yeah, your place was being fumigated, right before you moved in with Matt.”  
  


“It wasn’t being fumigated.” Justin pushed at his shoulder. “They were painting the hallway and you bitched and got us a room. But that place was nice.”  
  


“Yeah, small, discreet.”  
  


“Huge comfy bed, with small, discreet places to tie things to.”  
  


“You remember that?”  
  


“Like I could forget that.”  
  


“That was hot.”  
  


“We should go back there.”  
  


“I have plenty of places to tie you up right here.”  
  


“Really?”  
  


Brian nodded. “Really.”  
  


“And yet, usually, you just fuck me.” Justin was now moving his ass in small circles over Brian’s crotch. “Why is that?”  
  


Brian leaned his head back. His grip on Justin’s knee tightening. “No clue.”  
  


“Hmmm. Maybe you’re getting bored with me.” Brian heard the soft swish of fabric as Justin removed his shirt. He felt Justin’s body move closer. He kept his eyes closed. His hand stayed above his head, resting on the chair. He waited until Justin was leaning against him and brought both arms up quickly, hands on Justin’s biceps.   
  


“Not bored.”  
  


“You sure?”  
  


Brian pushed Justin back and led him towards the bedroom. Justin was smiling. Brian could turn his expression to a look of frustration and desire in a matter of moments. He pushed Justin back against the bed and watched as he bounced once, twice, and then moved himself further up the mattress. Brian yanked Justin’s pants down quickly. He pulled the restraints from under the bed and watched as Justin arranged himself more comfortably. He let out a low chuckle. “Roll over.” He watched. Justin wanted to protest but he didn’t. He rolled over and waited.  
  


Brian kissed his wrists as he attached the restraints to the bedposts. Justin was squirming against the sheets. Brian laid a hard smack on his thigh. “Keep still.” Justin nodded but didn’t comply. Brian did it again and Justin moaned. He left his own jeans on and crawled up the bed until he was on top of Justin. Grinding the denim into the warm resistance of Justin’s ass. “You asked for this.”  
  


Justin nodded. Brian's hands moved slowly up Justin’s arms, checking the tension, making sure he wasn’t actually hurting him. He licked at Justin’s neck, bit at his shoulder and ran his tongue down the bumps of his spine. He felt the kid’s skin break out in goose bumps and smiled again. He swirled his tongue at the small of Justin’s back and then kissed each perfect ass cheek before he pulled them apart.   
  


Justin’s mouth was open, his lips were wet and the sounds he was making were indescribable. They got louder and Brian stood up. Justin made a sound of protest but stopped when he heard the door shut. Brian looked over and saw him blushing. “If Aaron sees this… not sure we can afford the therapy bill.”  
  


Justin nodded and buried his face in the pillows. Brian stroked his hair. Sitting on the bed and running his hands along Justin’s body. “I’m gonna fuck you.”  
  


Justin moaned.  
  


“But not for a while.”  
  


Justin moaned louder.  
  


“You’re gonna get lost in it, forget about everything. Is that what you want?”  
  


He watched Justin’s body tense and then seem to relax into the mattress. He moved his hand up to the restraints again. “Tell me if you don’t want this.”  
  


Justin said nothing. His breathing was shallow and Brian moved behind him, pushing at his thighs until Justin crawled forward onto his knees. Brian put his hands on the smooth skin of the inside of his thighs and pushed them apart. Justin struggled to keep the position.   
  


”I’m going to tie you up like this.”  
  


Justin dropped his head and Brian attached the restraints above Justin’s knees and to the same posts where his arms were constrained. He moved his head lower and licked a wide swipe over Justin’s crack, his tongue dipping slightly to tease him.

~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin’s POV  
  


Oh holy fuck. I know, I asked for this. Okay, I want this, but oh holy fuck. We haven’t done this in a long time… and well, oh god, I want him. I want him inside me but there’s more… I want him to… own me. It doesn’t make sense. It shouldn’t make sense. I’m a grown man, this is… whatever. This is good. If I didn’t want it, we wouldn’t do it. If he didn’t want it…and he does. Sometimes, like this, when everything else seems so fucking complicated, well, that’s when this is all either of us want.   
  


This place, this space, this way. He so owns me and I’m so okay with that. I could explain why. I could tell you it’s okay because he doesn’t do it too much outside of this space but it doesn’t matter, it’s okay because we both know it’s is.  
  


His tongue, it’s inside me but he’s teasing me. He’s stroking me a little and admonishing me for being so wet. I am. I’m dripping. This turns me on too much. The stretch. When he enters me, there’s that immediate stretch, that moment of accommodation… when he does this, when my arms are stretched and my legs are pulled apart and I’m completely exposed like this…the stretch and burn runs through my entire body. He runs his hands along my arms, he feels the taut muscles and I know he’s enjoying the feel and checking to make sure I’m not hurting myself at the same time. It’s weird how fucking protective he is when he’s about to discipline me, it really is… but it’s also…it’s just fucked up and who he is… if he’s gonna hurt me, it’s going to be on his terms. If that’s not a metaphor for our relationship then I misunderstand the definition.  
  


But he’s sure I’m okay now, ready. I am. I’m ready and I’d be pushing my ass in the air if it didn’t mean that he’d just wait longer. His tongue is gone. I feel him moving and want this. I brace myself and wait. If I lift my head, if I look at him… I’ll be waiting longer. He likes to fuck with me like that. He likes to fuck with me like this.  
  


My stomach is fluttering, my cock is leaking and I’m seriously ready to beg. Begging gets me nowhere but I can’t stop it. Not at moments like this. Then his hand comes down, and it’s hard, it hurts, I want more. He does it again and I try to move away but there’s nowhere to go. I’m grunting at the pain and he’s timing his movements so that I can never quite prepare for the next one.   
  


Then he stops and I want to cry. I’m not ready for him to stop… but it’s just an intermission. He’s pushing a plug against my lips and I lube it with my own saliva, not too much, I want to feel this. He’s pressing it into me, and I’m bearing down. It’s wide. I feel it slide in. I feel the heat of his body as he kneels behind me. He’s appreciating it, appreciating me, and I want him to do it with his hands, with his belt, with anything other than his eyes.   
  


I was scared. Two weeks ago, last night, this morning. I was scared we’d never get back to a place where we could be this comfortable, but we are, and we have and he’s whispering in my ear. Oh god, his mouth, it’s hot and wet. His voice has that low tone he only uses at times like this. He’s asking me. He’s asking me what I want. Fuck if I know. He’s not gonna do anything until I tell him. I whisper it but he wants to hear me. “Your belt.”   
  


He smiles. It’s evil. I shiver. My cock is dripping. I need him now. I feel the first sting and I bite the pillow to keep from crying out. God only knows how much we’ve warped Aaron already, or how much Aaron and Lee know about us that we never meant them to know. Doesn’t matter right now. Right now there’s the delicious sting. There’re Brian’s hands, stroking my thighs. There’s the tightening in my chest and my balls as his hands come down hard on the inside of my thighs. I want to pull them together. I can’t. I want to protest, but I won’t. I ride it. He’s moving faster now. The pain blurs into one solid overwhelming sensation and then he moves to my ass again. The plug going deeper with each blow. My body unable to determine pleasure from pain. I arch my back. My ass as far out as I can get it and I know Brian appreciates it.   
  


I hear a sharp intake of breath. He’s standing beside me and I can only imagine what my profile looks like. My body open, my back curved, my head down. I know I’m shaking and his warm strong hands are sliding over my skin. I feel his fingers tracing the lines I know he’s left on my ass. I whimper, and I’m honestly not sure if it’s because I think he’s not done, or because I think he is. His hand falls flat and hard against my ass and I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.  
  


There’s a flurry of slaps against my ass and I’m about to come. The plug hitting me in just the right spot, the sensations hitting me everywhere else. He stops again and this time I know why I’m whimpering. “Don’t come yet.”  
  


I nod, but I don’t know if I can do it. I’m so close. I can feel it. He pulls the plug out and I sigh. I know what’s coming next and he’s there, behind me, his cock pushing into me. Slow, and determined. Just my spit from the plug lubing me. It’s rough. I can feel him, every inch of him. His hands on my hips, his cock, the wide head stretching me open. Then he’s slammed against my ass. His pelvis rocking against the heat he’s created. He’s leaning over me. He owns me right now, and that’s the most blissful feeling I know. He’s whispering in my ear. Telling me not to come. And while he does that he’s stroking my cock slowly, lubing his palm with my precum. He’s fucking me, and stroking me and making me promise I won’t come and that’s more torturous than anything he might do with his belt.  
  


My arms are sore, my legs are aching and I’m not sure how much more pleasure I can take before I explode. He pulls back. Pulls out. Thrusts back in and I groan. I’m trying to hold off. I’m waiting. He’ll tell me. He always does. But he doesn’t. I feel him come. Feel his movements speed up, his breath change. He’s draped over me and breathing in my ear and I’m trying to move. I can’t. The weight of his body, the restraints on my arms and legs. I’m crying. He wipes a tear from under my eye and unties me.   
  


He’s massaging my arms. He’s stoking my legs. He’s still telling me not to come and I’m begging now. He rolls me onto my back and then his mouth is on me. He swallows around me once, twice, and it doesn’t matter what he says, there’s nothing I can do about it now. I come. He swallows again and I can’t stop. My body is shaking, my skin is on fire and his tongue is lapping at my shaft. He pulls off, smiling.   
  


He leans in to kiss me and I don’t even lift my head. I can’t. I can’t move. He kisses me. His tongue is mapping my mouth and I taste myself on him and I find the energy to put my arms around him. He pulls back a little and I see his smile.  
  


I fall asleep on my stomach, his hands still stroking my ass. My head buried in the crook of his neck. We’re okay. Doubting it seems far away right now.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin woke to the sound of Brian in the shower but decided he was too tired to pursue anything further than more sleep. When he woke up again it was after ten. He showered and was headed to the studio when he caught sight of Aaron out of the corner of his eye. He looked… like he’d been crying. Justin started the coffee and toasted a bagel. His first instinct had been to rush to Aaron’s side. His first instincts had been wrong a lot lately. He waited. He brought his bagel and coffee to the sofa and sat down.  
  


“You okay?”  
  


Aaron shot him a look and he almost blushed. He _did_ fucking hate that question… he needed to break himself of the habit of asking it. He shrugged instead.  
  


“What’s up?”  
  


“Nothing.”  
  


“Bullshit.”  
  


“Nothing, I’m just pissed off.”  
  


“And not wearing your brace.”  
  


“Oh Jesus fucking Christ! Can I go one fucking day without hearing about how I can’t take care of myself.”  
  


“Sure.”  
  


“Thank you.”  
  


“As soon as you prove us wrong.”  
  


“You’re all wrong. All of you. I can do just fine by myself.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“I can.”  
  


“So be fine.”  
  


“I am.”  
  


“But you’re not by yourself.”  
  


“I’ll leave.”  
  


“I don’t want you to.”  
  


Aaron looked at him. “Yes you do.”  
  


Justin shook his head. He reached out a hand for Aaron's but Aaron pulled away.   
  


“Get off me.”  
  


“We don’t want you to leave.”  
  


“Brian wants me to stay forever so he can control my life.”  
  


“Brian can do long distance control. He doesn’t need you in the apartment.”  
  


“So I can leave.”  
  


“Nope.”  
  


“Justin.”  
  


“Nope. I’m not letting you.”  
  


“Fuck off, that’s not your call.”  
  


“It has to be. I know what you’re going through.”  
  


“You have no idea.”  
  


Justin stared at him and Aaron bit his lip. “Maybe you have a _slight_ idea.”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


“But it’s not exactly the same.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“But it still sucks.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“I can’t walk.”  
  


“You’re not doing your PT.”  
  


“I am.”  
  


“Really?”  
  


“Well…” Aaron was looking down at his own hands as if they were suddenly fascinating. “It hurts.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“It wasn’t your leg.”  
  


“No, it was my brain.”  
  


Aaron almost laughed.  
  


“Look, you’ve gotta get better or Brian and I won’t let you leave and really, that’s not what you want. You can’t get better if you don’t do the work.”  
  


“But the work is…”  
  


“Hard work?”  
  


“Maybe.”  
  


“Yeah, this shit is hard work. So is figuring out how to fucking walk down the street without panicking.”  
  


“I don’t have that problem.”  
  


“Because you take twice the recommended daily allowance of narcotics.”  
  


“There’s and RDA on narcotics?”

  
”Don’t try the cute routine, it’s never worked on me.”  
  


“That’s because you invented it.”  
  


“I fucking perfected it. So don’t play this game, you can’t win with me. I wrote the rulebook.”  
  


“Oh.”  
  


“Yeah, and don’t think I won’t let Brian in on the game plan if I think you’re playing him.”  
  


“But then he’d know your game plan too.”  
  


“Pfft. He’s had my playbook for years. He just… doesn’t care.”  
  


“He lets you win?”  
  


“I let him think that’s what he’s doing.”  
  


“Do you have a big secret playbook he doesn’t know about?”  
  


Justin smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”  
  


“I really would.”  
  


“But I’m not telling you.”  
  


“You think it’ll work on Lee?”  
  


“You trying to play Lee?”  
  


“Not trying, just… not sure what to do with him.”  
  


“Where is he?”  
  


“He’s got a commission, a show in a month, not a solo one, don’t get jealous, and he just got Michael’s notes on the next issue of Rage.”  
  


“Busy boy.”  
  


“Yeah, plus he’s got a loser gimp to take care of.”  
  


“You’re not a loser. And it’s your choice. If you want to stay a gimp…”  
  


“I don’t.”  
  


“Good. Do the work. What is it you want to do with Lee?”  
  


“I… um…”   
  


Justin laughed and Aaron stared daggers at him. “Stop it.”  
  


“Sorry, It’s funny. You have no fucking clue what you want from him do you?”  
  


“No, I do… I just…”  
  


“Don’t know how to get it?”  
  


Aaron dropped his head in his hands. “You were right the first time.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“He says he loves me.”  
  


“You think he’s lying?”  
  


“Yeah. He had to be. Who the fuck would love me when I’m this fucked up?”  
  


“There’s a lid for every pot.”  
  


“Huh?”  
  


“Nothing, something your grandmother used to say.”  
  


“It is?”  
  


“Yeah. I used to wonder what happened if you were a sauté pan.”  
  


Aaron laughed then stopped. “That’s not funny.”  
  


“Neither is you sitting around crying.”  
  


“I wasn’t crying.”  
  


“Okay.”  
  


“Brian’s better at humoring people than you are.”  
  


Justin turned his head and pretended to be looking around for anyone who might overhear. “Brian’s better at most things than I am.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“But he’s not your brother.”  
  


“No he’s not.”  
  


“And he’s never been bashed.”  
  


“No, he hasn’t.”  
  


“And this is shit I know about.”  
  


“Do you?”  
  


“Yeah, Aaron, I really do.”  
  


Aaron leaned his head back and Justin ran a hand through his hair affectionately. “You’re not a stupid kid, not anymore. You’re not ugly. What happened wasn’t your fault.”  
  


Aaron was crying. His eyes closed, his head leaning against the back of the sofa. “It really was my fault, Justin.”   
  


Justin almost didn’t hear him. “Aaron, no.”  
  


“Yeah. I was stoned, I was flying, whatever. I was ten feet tall and bulletproof, you know?”  
  


“Yeah, I know.”  
  


“And I took them on. I heard him say something about stupid faggots, and I got mad, and I swaggered over to him like an idiot. I know what can happen and I did it anyway.”  
  


“Me too.”  
  


“What happened at your prom wasn’t the same thing.”  
  


“The other night. Brian and I went out. I was flying. Some asshole said something as we were getting into the cab.”  
  


“Oh Christ.”  
  


“Yeah, I mean, we’re out, taking a night off from the bullshit that happened because a flying twink confronted a homophobic asshole who wants us all dead, and I pull the same stupid shit.”  
  


“No more E for you.”  
  


“I think Brian probably agrees with you.”  
  


“What’d he do?”  
  


“He pulled me away, talked me down… classic Brian.”  
  


“Probably freaked him too.”  
  


“Yeah, not the point. The point is, you did it. I’ve done it. I was lucky, you weren’t.”  
  


“So it’s just dumb luck.”  
  


“And you know, not doing so much E.”  
  


“Hypocrite.”  
  


“Probably.”  
  


“It’s still my fault.”  
  


“No it really isn’t.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“Tell me what you would do differently?”  
  


“Um, not.”  
  


“Yeah, except you’ve never been one to not. You do shit. Sometimes too much shit…”  
  


“Is this about my medications?”  
  


“No, it’s about your little flirtation with crystal.”  
  


“He told you about that?”  
  


Justin nodded.  
  


“Fuck.”  
  


“You’ve gotta be careful.”  
  


“I am.”  
  


“Not lately.”  
  


“I am too.”  
  


“Whatever. Lee cares. Don’t question that.”  
  


“He only cares because I’m hurt. We weren’t even together when it happened.”  
  


“But he cares now.”  
  


“Only because I’m damaged.”  
  


“I don’t think that’s it. Have you talked to him?”  
  


“We talk all the time.”  
  


“About this?”  
  


“No. What am I supposed to say?”  
  


“Are you here because I got bashed or because you want to be?”  
  


“Did you ask Brian that?”  
  


“Yeah, but that’s not important. You and Lee are NOT Brian and me.”  
  


“Thank fucking god.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“You two make no sense.”  
  


“So you’ve mentioned.”  
  


“Why is he still with you?”  
  


“I explained that a long time ago.”  
  


“Why are you still with him.”  
  


“Pretty much the same reason.”  
  


“But… I mean, this… whatever happened to you… it almost…”  
  


“Don’t. It wasn’t the problem. _you_ weren’t the problem.”  
  


“So what was?”  
  


“We really don’t have that kind of time.”  
  


Aaron handed Justin a controller. “I think I just figured out how to slay the dragon.”  
  


“You did?”  
  


“It’s a teamwork thing. Lee and I were both working on opposite sides, just poking him but never doing and real damage. If you can come in behind me… open the wound more…”  
  


Justin nodded and put the controller down. “Play with Lee. I have work to do.”  
  


Aaron nodded and switched out games. Justin walked away and looked back at him when he was about to close the studio door. The kid was pretty fucked up. He hoped Lee really was in it for a while.   
  


He closed the studio door and called Brian.  
  


“I’m on my way to a meeting.”  
  


“I love you.”  
  


“Good to know.”  
  


“Just know that.”  
  


“What’s up?”  
  


“Nothing, I just needed to tell you.”  
  


“I’ll keep it in mind.”  
  


“Bye.”  
  


“Later.”  
  


He hung up and started working. He stopped almost an hour later when his hand gave out. The intricacy of that section was gonna have to be put on hold.  
  


Justin leaned his head against the wall and tried to think rationally… everything was fine… he was lucky. Aaron was actually lucky… he flexed his fingers a few times and moved to the computer to map out his next work. When Brian got home, he’d talk to Aaron. Maybe Justin could find some time to talk to Lee.   
  


Justin lost track of time but was startled out of his concentration by yelling. He peeked out of the studio but Lee was yelling at Aaron and Aaron was yelling back and he figured that what little he knew about functional relationships would be no help. He closed the door and smiled. Fighting _is_ a very effective form of communication sometimes.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


“No.”  
  


“I’m not asking.”  
  


“Lee, no fucking way.”  
  


Lee shook his head. “First, put your goddamned brace on, then we can finish this argument.”  
  


“It’s not an argument, and fuck you.”  
  


Lee held the brace out to him. “Start doing your PT. Wear the fucking brace, and cut it the fuck out.”  
  


“Stop treating me like a child.”  
  


“Stop fucking acting like one.”  
  


“So you _do_ think I’m a child.”  
  


“No, I think you’re a stubborn fucker.”  
  


“Well, yeah. Duh.”  
  


“Don’t play cute.”  
  


“Who’s playing?”  
  


Lee shook his head. “You’re impossible.”  
  


“You’re the one being a fucking asshole about this.”  
  


“Because I’m not fucking going anywhere and I don’t care if you think I am.”  
  


“You should be.”  
  


“No I shouldn’t and if you really wanted me gone…”  
  


“I do.”  
  


“If you really wanted me gone I’d know it.”  
  


“Because I’d tell you.”  
  


“This is one of those times when I’m not listening to what you say. I’m paying a hell of a lot more attention to what you’re not saying.”  
  


“Like what?”  
  


“Nice fucking try. No. Not telling you what you need to say to get rid of me.”  
  


“Because you know I’d say it.”  
  


“I’d still know you didn’t mean it.”  
  


“Lee…”  
  


“Stop it Aaron. I’m not doing this again.”  
  


“So don’t. Go.”  
  


“Stop it.”  
  


“No.”  
  


Lee took a step towards Aaron. “Stop. It.”  
  


“No.”  
  


“Stop trying to prove yourself right. You’re not.”  
  


“I am.”  
  


“And you wonder why I treat you like a kid. Could it possibly be the fact you argue like a five year old?”  
  


“If you don’t want to argue with me, go away.”  
  


“I’d rather argue with you than go away.”  
  


“That’s insane.”  
  


“You’re insane. It’s okay, I knew that going in.”  
  
”No you didn’t.”  
  


“You’re Justin’s little brother, I had my suspicions.”  
  


“Fuck you, I’m nothing like him.”  
  


“You’re not just like him. You have similar traits.”  
  


“Like what?” Aaron crossed his arms in front of him and Lee smiled.  
  


“Well, there’s that look, and your eyes, and that stance…all of which is Taylor speak for ‘don’t’ fuck with me’.”   
  


Aaron nodded and dropped his hands to his side in an effort to seem less like his brother.   
  


“There’s the fucking daddy issues.”  
  


“We do not have…”  
  


“Shut up, you do. That guy was an asshole.”  
  


“Whatever.”  
  


“You’re both stubborn as fuck too.”  
  


“So go date him.”  
  


“Don’t wanna date him. And I think he’s taken.”  
  


“A little.” They both laughed.   
  


“More than a little. Even if he wasn’t. I love you.”   
  


Aaron flinched.  
  


“Hurts to hear, I know. It’s no less true.”  
  


“You don’t.”  
  


“Don’t tell me how I feel.”  
  


“You…”  
  


“Don’t tell me I shouldn’t.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“Cut it the fuck out.”  
  


“But you’re free to leave.”  
  


“I’ll keep that in mind if I ever think I might want to.”  
  


“You will.”  
  


“Just accept that at the moment I don’t.”  
  


“On one condition.”  
  


Lee looked at him warily. “What?”  
  


“Help me kill the fucking dragon.”  
  


Lee smiled and took two steps forward. He cupped Aaron’s head in his hand and pulled him in for a kiss. He leaned back and said softly, “put on your brace, I’ll get us a couple of beers and we’ll kill the fucker.”  
  


Aaron nodded and headed to his room.   
  


In the studio Justin smiled. 


	13. Chapter 13

 

  
  


* * *

## Safe Keeping

## Chapter Thirteen   


* * *

  
  


 

Justin was giving in to his annual urge to make lasagna. Brian was trying to ignore the mess in the kitchen and checking his email.   
  


They both looked up when the door opened. Aaron was walking slowly and wearing a shit-eating grin. Brian frowned. Justin was about to say something to Aaron about his brace when the half-breed handed something to Brian. Justin was elbows deep in ricotta. He raised an eyebrow in question.   
  


Brian looked at the paper, nodded and handed it back to Aaron. “Doctor gave him the all clear on the brace.”  
  


Justin turned his attention back to the food processor and the parsley. “Good. Tired of having to remind you about that thing.”  
  


“I’m sure you’ll find something else to nag me about.”  
  


“I don’t nag.”  
  


He heard the derisive snort come from both Brian and Aaron and considered flinging the ricotta mixture in their direction but concluded he was too old for such juvenile bullshit and stuck his tongue out at them instead.   
  


Three hours later the kitchen was clean, the lasagna was cooked, eaten, packed up and frozen. Aaron was waiting for Lee, who’d gotten tied up at a meeting with the children’s book publisher he worked with. Brian and Justin were watching a gay as blazes marathon on LOGO.   
  


“This show sucks.”  
  


“We know.”  
  


“So why are we watching it?” Aaron picked up the remote. Brian deftly plucked it out of his hands.   
  


“Don’t touch the fucking remote.”  
  


“You don’t even like this show.”  
  


“Go to sleep.”  
  


“Not tired.”  
  


“I’m sure you can take something to fix that.”  
  


“Fuck you.”  
  


“At least you’re smart enough not to deny it.”   
  


Justin didn’t say anything. He waited for Aaron's response. He didn’t seem to have one. After almost a minute Aaron grumbled something.  
  


“What was that?”  
  


“I said you guys are fucking hypocrites.”  
  


“Because I think you’re being a fucking twat about your pretty little pills.”  
  


“I’m not being a twat. My hip still hurts. It hurts more after I do my PT, which you both nag about.”  
  


“I don’t nag.”  
  


“Whatever. Justin nags for the both of you. Stop rolling your eyes.”  
  


Justin crossed his arms and let Brian handle this.   
  


“Aaron you’ve got to cut the med shit out.”  
  


“Why?”  
  


Brian closed his eyes in exasperation. “Because I say so.”  
  


Aaron chortled and Justin took Brian’s hand before he could hit the little half-breed twat.   
  


“Because you’re becoming a loser addict. It’s unbecoming.”  
  


“I’m not addicted.”  
  


“So stop.”  
  


“I have.”  
  


“Bullshit.”  
  


“I don’t take as many.”  
  


“Because we stopped filling three separate prescriptions for the same drug.”  
  


“Well, yeah.”  
  


“So does Lee have to fucking dole them out to you like you’re some demented little queen?”  
  


“No.”  
  


“Aaron…” Justin started. Brian put a hand on Justin's thigh and he shut up. Maybe Brian had this one.  
  


“I’m telling you to cut it the fuck out. Do what you want but you’re fucking up.”  
  


“I am not.”  
  


Brian shrugged. “Opinions vary.”  
  


“I’m not. I’m fine. I haven’t fucked up anything.”  
  


“You haven’t _done_ anything in almost three months.”  
  


“I’ve been healing.”  
  


“And now you’re pretty much healed.”  
  


“I still have therapy to do.”  
  


“Right.”  
  


“But less.”  
  


“Good.”  
  


“And I’ll just take the Vicodin when I need it.”  
  


“Good. So can I have your oxycontin?”  
  


“Why, you want to dole it out to me?”  
  


Brian shook his head and smirked. “It’s hard to get the good shit… if you have it laying around, we shouldn’t let it go to waste.”  
  


This time Aaron rolled his eyes. “Oh my fucking god. You’re _such_ a hypocrite!”  
  


Brian laughed. “Someday the both of you will understand that having different rules for different people does not make me a hypocrite.”  
  


“Someday Brian, maybe you’ll understand that neither Justin, nor I, think we have to follow your fucking rules. Especially since you don’t.”  
  


Brian pulled Justin’s head closer to his. Whispering against his lips, “you don’t follow my rules?”  
  


Justin shook his head. “No, but you knew that.”  
  


Brian nodded and kissed him. He turned his attention to Aaron. “So we’re done with this?”  
  


Aaron nodded. “I’m done.”  
  


“Good.” Brian stood up and offered a hand to Justin, who took it with a smile. “G’night.”  
  


Aaron took the remote and changed the channel. Brian pulled Justin into the bedroom and shut the door.  
  


“That accomplished nothing.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“So what was that about?” Justin lifted his arms allowing Brian to pull his shirt over his head and toss it in the vicinity of the hamper.  
  


“It’s a start. He’s not gonna stop but he needs to know we know.”  
  


“Why? So he can hide it better?”  
  


“He can try.”  
  


“You really don’t think anyone can hide shit from you, do you?” Brian’s hands were working at the fly of Justin’s pants. Justin was sliding Brian's jeans over his hips.   
  


“No one can.”  
  


“You’re deluded.”  
  


Brian gave a sharp tug at Justin’s jeans and underwear. He took a step forward, causing Justin to take a step backwards. “And you’re naked.”  
  


“Yeah but I could get dressed…”  
  


Brian growled.  
  


Justin laughed “but I won’t.”  
  


“Good thinking.”  
  


“Always thinking.”  
  


“I can change that.”  
  


Justin stood on his toes pulling Brian’s head down for a kiss. Their tongues found each other and their hands were moving along one another’s body. Justin pulled away a little and moved behind Brian, pushing him forwards towards the bed. Brian turned. Justin kept walking, Brian now moving backwards. When his knees hit the edge of the mattress Justin pushed and Brian fell, arms out to his sides, smiling.  
  


Justin smiled too as he leaned over, aligning their bodies. Their cocks rubbing together. Their mouths feeling fused. Justin’s arms moved outwards, sliding over Brian’s until his fingers wrapped around Brian’s wrists. He pulled Brian’s arms over his head and heard him chuckle.  
  


“Think it’s funny?”  
  


“You gonna tie _me_ up?”  
  


“Maybe.”  
  


Brian’s eyes darkened and Justin laughed. “But not tonight.”  
  


Brian seemed to relax.  
  


Justin was grinding against him, kissing him, tasting him. He let go of Brian’s hands and before he could move lower down his body Brian had rolled them over. Justin instinctively wrapped his legs around Brian’s hips but Brian shook his head and backed off of him a little. Justin rolled over, raising himself up onto his knees. He felt Brian's hands slide down his torso. Felt Brian’s hard on pressing against his ass. Felt the heat coming off of Brian’s skin.  
  


He was aware of the prickle of sweat that had started when those capable, sure hands had tossed his shirt aside.   
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~  
  


Brian’s POV  
  


He’s right. That accomplished nothing. So what? The kid knows that we know he takes too many pills. Not going to stop him from doing it. We cut off the extra supply, so what? He’ll find a way to get them again if he wants them. Not like he can’t buy them on every fucking street corner. Whatever… Justin’s naked.  
  


He’s on top of me, talking about tying me up. Not tonight… good, he agrees. Enough of my life is out of control at the moment… don’t need this to be too. This works best when I’m in control… okay, this works best when we agree who’s in control… and tonight, it’s me. I roll him over and he’s wrapped around me. I shake my head and he knows. It’s good, this not needing to talk thing. He’s on his knees, his elbows are still on the bed, he’s still pretending he can do this without collapsing into the pillows. He tries. He can’t help it. Body goes on sensory overload, brain shuts off and there’s nothing in the world for him but whatever he’s feeling…whatever I can make him feel. I love that.   
  


I slide inside him and it shouldn’t be this good. After this long, how is it still so good, so hot? He’s moaning my name and this is going to be over way too fast if he doesn’t shut up. I lean forward and run my hands through his hair. I move one hand near his face. His head is pressed against the pillow and he sucking on my fingers. I’m making small movements now. Sliding into him, angling towards his prostate. He bucks against me and I can’t help but smile. His legs spread further. I slide deeper. He’s humming around my fingers like they’re my cock. His hand comes back and slaps my thigh, he wants to come, he’s telling me he’s close. Too fucking bad. Not yet.  
  


I pull out completely and push at his hip. He rolls over. His eyes are dark and narrow. “Brian, please.”   
  


I shake my head and tucks his chin in closer to his chest. I lean over to kiss him. I have to when he does that, have to. He’s smiling and pulling me closer with his heels. I plunge into him again and he throws his head back. I kiss his neck. I have to when he does that, have to.   
  


I’m back inside him, and his hard cock is leaking against me. He’s got his hands up by his head. He moves them. He wants to touch me. Not now… not yet. I trap his hands there and our eyes lock. He blinks at me. I kiss him. I have to when he does that, have to. I’m close. He’s closer. I guide both our hands down to his cock and we’re stroking him. His back arches, he comes so hard he almost throws me off of him. Almost. I’m not done. I’m stroking along his prostate and feeling his body convulse. I push back against him as his ass tightens against the intrusion. He gasps and bucks with every move. His hands are pushing at my chest. Not pushing me away, he’s flexing his fingers into my pecks. He slides his arms around my neck and runs his fingers through my hair.   
  


He breathes my name. I kiss him. I have to when he does that, have to. I come. He’s gone limp, sated, sweaty. I collapse on top of him, my chin on his shoulder, and my head against the pillow, in his hair. He wraps an arm around me and turns to kiss my ear. Christ, this kid is gonna kill me.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


On Saturday Justin had a meeting with the gallery about the show. Aaron was asleep and Brian was considering going into the office. It was going to be a short week. He’d given everyone off on Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, and obviously, the long holiday weekend. Brian was about to get up and get his stuff together when Lee quietly closed Aaron's door, helped himself to a beer and sat down at the table. Brian sighed. Lee wanted to talk.  
  


He raised an eyebrow and waited for Lee to start.  
  


“I um…hi.”  
  


“Hi.”  
  


“Working?”  
  


Brian sighed audibly. “What do you want?”  
  


“I think after the holidays, Aaron should move in with me.”  
  


“Are you asking for my half-breed in law’s hand?”  
  


“No…well, yeah.”  
  


“You don’t need my permission. You’re both adults… sort of.”  
  


“I don’t need your permission. He does.”  
  


“No he doesn’t.”  
  


“He does. He cares what you two think. He listens to the both of you, but, when you and Justin disagree, he sides with you.”  
  


Brian carefully arranged his features to show no expression. He was somewhat concerned that if he let his true feelings show, the absolute terror that idea created would frighten Lee. “I give you guys a week.”  
  


Lee sighed. He spread his arms in front of him on the table and dropped his head on them. “That’s the shit I’m talking about. We’re not you and Justin.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“And I know him.”  
  


“You’re not ready for him. You have no idea what it takes to raise one of these Taylor kids.”  
  


“I don’t want to raise him.”  
  


“Doesn’t matter what you want. That’s part of the care and feeding manual.”  
  


“He’s an adult. And I _do_ know him. I know that he drinks stupid flavored microbrews and hates Rolling Rock and Budweiser. I know that he drinks vodka martinis and hates gin as much as Justin loves it. He thinks scotch smells funny.”  
  


“So you know how to get him drunk.”  
  


“I’m not finished. I know that he watches cartoons and plays video games because they remind him of the couple of times when his father lived with them and things were good. I know that he fucking hates his father, and still wishes the guy were alive so that they could make up and be the way they were when he was eleven. I know that he plays dangerous games so that you can rescue him because of those same fucking daddy issues.”  
  


Brian opened his mouth to say something but Lee held up a hand to stop him. Brian was surprised but listened. “He plays the same game with me sometimes. He’s warped. It’s not your fault or Justin’s but he’s gotten a lot of what he knows about healthy relationships from watching the two of you. He thinks it’s normal to question how much someone loves you, or if they do at all. He thinks Velcro is a crime against nature. He loves peanut butter. He hates jelly. He can argue for hours about the innate wrongness of including celery in tuna salad, which is stupid because even without celery he hates tuna and all seafood except sushi and those Thai shrimp balls. He’s cranky in the morning. If given the opportunity he’ll go completely nocturnal. He idolizes you and Justin, in different ways. He idolizes you and Justin as a couple, and that’s got to be the scariest fucking thing to take on, but I’m willing to take it on. I don’t need to prove myself to you. I don’t need to prove to you that I love him, or that I know him. I’m doing it because I do love him and I do know him and if you and Justin are going to dismiss us as something lesbionic or psuedo hetero, or just puppy love, he’s never going to take us seriously. So I’m talking to you, and yeah, I guess I’m asking for your blessing because in order for him to move on… he needs it.”  
  


Brian took a moment to soak it all in. “You’re fucked.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“If he thinks what his brother and I have is healthy… you’re totally fucked.” Brian moved over to the kitchen and pulled out his stash. He sat back down and rolled a joint. He exhaled and offered it to Lee, who inhaled deeply before passing it back. “He plays that stupid ‘rescue me’ game with you too?”  
  


“Not the same way, but yeah.”  
  


“You keep rescuing him and he’ll never stop.”  
  


“You too.”  
  


Brian nodded. “He’s a lot like his brother.”  
  


“He’s not as focused. He hates being compared to Justin.”  
  


“It would suck to be compared to Justin. No winning that game.”  
  


“He’s not as perfect as you think.”  
  


Brian laughed. “You think I think he’s perfect?”  
  


“I think you’re blind to his faults.”   
  


Brian took another deep hit. “I know his faults. That shit you know about Aaron. Means nothing. The shit I’ve got on Justin…well, no one’s got that kind of time.”  
  


“That’s what I’m talking about.”  
  


Brian just stared at Lee.  
  


“What you two have. It’s…what does Aaron call it…twisted?’  
  


Brian nodded.  
  


“It is. It’s twisted, and you know, as Justin likes to say, complicated, but it’s also… I don’t know…” Lee shrugged trying to find the right word. He accepted the joint back from Brian. “Big. It’s big. Aaron doesn’t get that it doesn’t have to be that big.”  
  


“Right.”  
  


“It doesn’t”  
  


“Probably not. Why are you telling me this?”  
  


“Because you two live in your own little world of dram and act like if it’s not HUGE then it’s not worth it.”  
  


“Go big or go home.”  
  


“Right, except that…” Lee bit his lip. Brian waited. Lee shrugged.   
  


“Except what?”  
  


“It’ll kill you two it would have already killed anyone else. It’s too big. You have to be… bigger than life to live in something that big.”  
  


“Brian took the joint out of Lee’s hand. “No more pot for you.”  
  


“This isn’t the weed talking.”  
  


“So just stop talking.”  
  


“I’m just telling you… I know him. I know that he bites the inside of his lip 'til it’s raw when he’s worried or upset and doesn’t want anyone to know. He bites his bottom lip 'til it’s red and puffy when he wants me to know he’s upset. He…”  
  


“I get it. Shut up.”  
  


“He doesn’t. He won’t. Not until you two fucking accept that what we have is real.”  
  


“Even if it’s not big?”  
  


“It is. It’s just… he’s not Justin. I’m not Justin. And neither one of us are you.”  
  


“I’m one of a kind.”  
  


“So’s Aaron.”  
  


“So you want me to give him to you?”  
  


“I want you to let him go.”  
  


“He’s not ready.”  
  


“He is.”  
  


“Not about that. Maybe he is ready for his first real love… hell, he’s probably ready for that.”  
  


Lee sighed and Brian knew Lee was pissed off that he’d intimated it may not be Aaron’s _last_ real love. He didn’t care, it probably wouldn’t be. Wasn’t the point.   
  


“He’s fucking around with those damn pills.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“You don’t.”  
  


“He was getting them from a couple of different places. We’re working on that.”  
  


“And what happens when he moves on to something that isn’t prescription medication.”  
  


“He’s not that stupid.”  
  


“He’s that stupid.”  
  


“He wouldn’t do that.”  
  


“He might.”  
  


“Then we’ll deal.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“Brian, you can’t keep him here. He’s gonna finish college, he shouldn’t still be living with mommy and daddy.”  
  


“Careful.”  
  


“You know what I mean.”  
  


“Take him, he’s yours. Hurt him, you’re dead.”  
  


“You can’t threaten me.”  
  


“I don’t give a shit if you break his heart… you’re gonna do that, or he’s gonna do it to you. Human nature...”  
  


“You have a really skewed vision of humanity.”  
  


Brian pushed back from the table and gathered his computer and the papers he’d been working on. “I’ll talk to Justin.”  
  


“Thanks.”  
  


“You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”  
  


“Yes I do.”  
  


Brian shook his head and thought about heading to the office. He left his briefcase by the door and grabbed his gym bag. He needed to work off some energy.  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin was making final arrangements with the caterers on Tuesday. When he finished he considered actually calling Deb for the sweet potato recipe but decided to figure it out on his own. Brian had been working long hours for the past two days. He was pissed at Lee and Justin wasn’t sure why. He knew Brian would tell him eventually. He mentally went over the guest list again and then moved to the studio. It was after ten. He didn’t expect Brian to be home 'til well after midnight and he needed to get some more work done on the piece that he though might be the best thing he’d done in a long time. He didn’t even hear Brian come in.   
  


It was almost five when he got out of the shower and crawled into bed. Brian reached for him in his sleep. Justin timed his breathing to Brian’s and was asleep moments later. He didn’t wake up 'til ten the next morning. Brian was already gone.  
  


He walked bleary eyed out of the bedroom to find Aaron directing a guy with crates of dishes and glasses, pots and pans. He shook his head.   
  


“Those need to go over there.” He pointed towards a spot beside the kitchen island. “I don’t want to be tripping over them for the rest of the day.” Aaron shrugged and walked away, seemingly happy that Justin was taking control of this.  
  


The supplies, dishes, and flatware were neatly stacked. Justin considered disappearing into the studio but he had a few errands to run first.  
  


“Where’s Lee?”  
  


Aaron was playing an old fighting game Justin recognized. He shrugged. “Who knows? Who cares?”  
  


“Oh fuck, did you two break up again?”  
  


“Huh? No. He’s just being a dick.”  
  


Justin tried not to laugh. He did an admirable job. “What’d he do this time?”  
  


“He wants me to move in with him.”  
  


“I thought that’s what you wanted.”  
  


“It was…”  
  


“And now it’s not?”  
  


Aaron shook his head. Justin picked up one of the controllers and was holding his own against Aaron. They both heard the door open and assumed it was Lee. Brian rested an hand on Justin’s shoulder and Justin leaned his head back. They shared and upside-down kiss. “You’re home early.”  
  


“It’s after one, everyone else had the day off.”  
  


“Oh, then why’d you even go into…” he caught Brian’s look and stopped mid sentence.   
  


Brian came back to the sofa a few minutes later in jeans and a t-shirt. He had three beers with him. Justin took his and let Aaron beat his character to a bloody pulp. When he was done he took his own beer.  
  


“Aaron’s mad a at Lee.”  
  


“Do you have to tell him _everything_?”  
  


Justin simply nodded. Brian smiled and Justin made a face at him.  
  


“Whatever. I’m not mad at him.”  
  


“You two moving in together?”  
  


Both brothers’ heads turned sharply.   
  


“You’ve been talking to Lee?”  
  


“He’s been talking to me.”  
  


Justin took remains of his lunch to the kitchen. He kept his ears trained on the conversation.  
  


“Don’t talk to him.”  
  


“Don’t tell me who to talk to in my own house.”  
  


“It’s an apartment.”  
  


“Right.”  
  


“He’s an asshole.”  
  


“He is.”  
  


“Don’t call him an asshole.”  
  


“I didn’t. You did.”  
  


“He is.”  
  


“I know.”  
  


“What’d he do ask your permission?”  
  


“You don’t need my permission.”  
  


“No shit.”  
  


“You’re not ready. You two will kill each other in a week.”  
  


“Bullshit.”  
  


“So why are you still here?”  
  


Aaron was fidgeting with his hands. “We um…”  
  


Brian waited. Justin sat back on the chair and listened intently. Brian knew something.   
  


“We’re not ready.”  
  


“You just said you were.”  
  


“Whatever. I’m not moving in with him. What the fuck happens when I have to move out?”  
  


Brian shrugged.  
  


“Can I come back here?”  
  


“You gonna go running back here every time you two have a fight?”  
  


“That’s not what I asked.”  
  


“Yeah it is.”  
  


“Well can I?”  
  


Brian seemed to think about it. Justin wanted to scream. He interrupted instead. “Of course you can but you won’t need to.”  
  


“Of course he will, and Aaron, if it’s not gonna work, and you want out of here… get out of here. Don’t run to Lee. Find your own place.”  
  


“With my huge income, great credit and astounding earning potential? Sure, I’ll do that this afternoon.”  
  


“Do what you want.”  
  


“I always do.”  
  


Brian stood up. “I’m going to the gym.”  
  


Justin followed Brian into the bedroom. “What the fuck was that about?”  
  


Brian was packing clean clothes into his gym bag. He looked up. “What the fuck was what about?”  
  


 

“That little discussion with Aaron. Of course he can come back here if he and Lee don’t work out.”  
  


“Running home to stay with his mother?”  
  


“Careful.”  
  


“Sorry, _brother_ ”  
  


“Not everything is so black and white.”  
  


“If we give him an exit strategy, he’ll use it.”  
  


“That’s what they’re for.”  
  


Brian zipped up his bag and was about to leave. Justin grabbed his arm. “Fuck you, talk to me.”  
  


Brian turned and Justin took a step backwards. Brian’s expression was unreadable and that was more disconcerting than anger lately. Justin sat on the bed and waited. Brian would tell him…or he’d tell him later…really, he was gonna have to tell him eventually, that’s just how that worked.  
  


Brian seemed to come to the same conclusion and dropped his bag. “Lee thinks that Aaron won’t go without our blessing.”  
  


Justin leaned back on his arms. “What the fuck?”  
  


Brian shook his head. “Logic’s not either of their strong suits. But he might be right about this. So we have to tell him to go… and we have to tell him he can’t come back.”  
  


Justin started to laugh. He almost wanted to cry but honestly, it was too fucking funny. He laid back on the bed, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and laughed. He knew Brian thought he lost his mind. He tried to pull it together but when he sat up and saw Brian’s determined and worried expression he laughed again.  
  


Ten minutes later he got his breathing under control…sighed and wiped the tears from under his eyes.   
  


“You are possibly the most fucked up man in the universe.”  
  


“Glad we’re avoiding hyperbole.”  
  


“Brian, we have to tell him he should go. He should… in a month or two, when he’s closer to stable…healed a little more. Maybe the first of the year. Yeah, Aaron should go. Um…why exactly are you so sure that we have to lock the door, change the entry codes and never allow him back?”  
  


“Because if he can come back, he will.”  
  


“That’s called a safety net. Everyone should have one.”  
  


“You didn’t.”  
  


“Fuck you. I did. I had you.”  
  


“Not…”  
  


“This is _not_ about us. And even if it were, I had you, my mom, Debbie… I always had a place to go.”  
  


“I guess.”  
  


“I did. Because of you I never really needed one.”  
  


“That was more because of you.”  
  


“Arrrrggggh! We are just both too egocentric.”  
  


Brian laughed. “Right, Aaron, this is about Aaron.”  
  


“Aaron needs permission to leave? Fine, he’s got it. He needs the comfort of knowing he can come back… fine, he’s got that too.”  
  


“But…”  
  


“Brian, you made it without anywhere else to go. Good for you. Most people can’t do that.”  
  


“I had somewhere else to go.”   
  


Justin looked up. “You did?”  
  


Brian nodded. “Yeah, not home but…”  
  


“Debbie's.”  
  


“If I had to. Thank fucking god I didn’t.”  
  


“Yeah. Well, Aaron needs that. And I guess we’re his Debbie.”  
  


Brian picked up his bag. “I’m going to the gym.”  
  


“I’m buying sweet potatoes for tomorrow.”  
  


“Can’t be done.”  
  


“Watch me.”  
  


They both walked into the living room to find Aaron and Lee making out on the sofa. They coughed loudly.   
  


Brian spoke first. “After all the holiday bullshit, the two of you should get a room, that’s not in my house. I give it a week 'til you’re back here but… whatever. Make your own mistakes.”  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~*  
  


Brian and Lindsay were sitting on the sofa watching Justin bemusedly. Brian was smoking a cigarette and Lindsay was staring at it longingly. He offered her one but she shook her head.  
  


“Gus is in Pittsburgh, I promise I won’t tell.”  
  


She took the cigarette.   
  


Jennifer had arrived less than an hour ago. She was standing at the kitchen counter catching up with Justin.  
  


Aaron and Lee were playing Halo4.  
  


Justin pulled a couple of large baking sheets out of the oven and moved away to let the caterers finish their job. They were clearly aggravated by his presence in the kitchen. Justin clearly didn’t care. He brought a plate over and handed it to Brian. “Taste.”  
  


Brian took Justin’s other hand and sucked his finger. Justin laughed and pulled away. “The sweet potatoes pervert.”  
  


Brian tasted one. His eyes widened. “You called Debbie?”  
  


Justin shook his head. You were right. It’s just canned stuff with cheap maple syrup, cooked 'til burnt…  
  


“But…”  
  


“I know, I think I got them right.”  
  


Lindsay tasted one. “How did you do that?”  
  


Justin shrugged and walked away to supervise the caterers.  
  


“He’s….”  
  


“A fucking genius.”  
  


“We tried six times.”  
  


“If he decides to do something… it gets done.”  
  


“Fucking kids.” Lindsay laughed.  
  


“I thought as a mom you were supposed to stop using that word.”  
  


“There are lots of words I probably shouldn’t use. I’m thinking of a few right now.”  
  


Ted and Blake arrived a few minutes later. “Hi Bri.”  
  


“Theodore. Blake.”  
  


“Hi guys.” Justin broke in, taking their coats and offering them something non-alcoholic from the fridge. They sat back and Brian and Ted started talking business. Justin shot him a look. Brian shrugged and shot down Ted’s idea for the new Grand Hospitalities account. They’d landed it, but still didn’t have a clear direction in which to take the campaign.  
  


Matt and Jamison arrived and Jamison joined the Grand Hospitalities Confab. When Cynthia came in Brian poured her a drink and she joined them.   
  


Lindsay moved towards the kitchen. Matt joined them and Justin laughed.   
  


“What’s so funny?”  
  


Justin looked at his mother… if Brian saw this his head would explode.  
  


Lindsay laid a hand on his shoulder. “sweetie, he’s right over there.”  
  


Justin nodded. “Over there, talking business while the ‘wives’ congregate in the kitchen.”  
  


Jennifer and Lindsay laughed then too. “I guess it is…”  
  


“Completely hetero, stereotypical and everything he thinks he hates?”  
  


Jennifer moved towards the bar to refresh her drink. She smiled at Brian and toasted him silently. He nodded and then stood up, waving the KinnetiK contingent to follow him. “I had a couple of ideas mapped out. They’re on Justin’s computer in the study.  
  


Justin decided he’d had enough of this bullshit. “Oh sweetie.” His voice was overly saccharine and high pitched. “If you’re absolutely intent on stealing all our dinner guests, can you at least make sure not to…”  
  


Brian stalked towards him and Justin smirked. He leaned in to kiss Justin. Justin leaned back and whispered quietly, “you’re supposed to wait 'til _after_ dinner to retire with brandy and cigars.  
  


Brian sighed. “Twat.”  
  


Justin nodded and Brian ran an hand through his hair and kissed him. He turned around. “Moratorium on Grand Hospitalities 'til Monday.”  
  


Cynthia smirked, Ted nodded, they sat back down and tried to think of something else to discuss. Eventually Brian just packed a bowl with good weed and everyone but Ted and Blake got mellowly stoned. It led to bad ideas for Grand Hospitality. Matt and Jamison laughed hysterically at the fact that Brian and Lindsay couldn’t make sweet potatoes and Cynthia went off on a long rant about some man Brian seemed to know but Justin had never heard of.  
  


When dinner was finally served they were all more than ready.  
  


The rest of the evening went better than expected…well, as well as Justin had expected and better than he knew Brian had anticipated. Their guests finally left sometime before ten. Aaron and Lee had seemingly passed out on the sofa, tryptophan, pot, twelve bottles of wine among nine people, and of course, Aaron’s pain meds, were all valid reasons.  
  


Justin was pulling off his shirt and groaning. “I think I ate too much.”  
  


“Not the twink with the football player’s metabolism you used to be.”  
  


“Thank god.”  
  


“The caterers are picking up their shit tomorrow?”  
  


“Yeah.”  
  


Brian pulled Justin towards him. “You look hot.”  
  


“I look like shit.”  
  


Brian shook his head and kissed Justin. “You’re not tired?”  
  


“I didn’t eat enough for three people.”  
  


“It’s Thanksgiving. You’re supposed to.”  
  


“The sweet potatoes were all right.”  
  


“I guess Deb’s not as irreplaceable as we thought.”  
  


“Yeah I guess not.”  
  


“You miss her at the holidays.”  
  


Brian shrugged. “Maybe a little.”  
  


“We haven’t been back to The Pitts in a long time. Maybe we need to go check on Babylon.”  
  


“It’s doing fine. Angel would tell me if it weren’t.”  
  


“Maybe we should check on Debbie.”  
  


“She’s doing fine. We’d know if she weren’t.”  
  


“I wish Molly could have made it.”  
  


“She’d doing fine, we’d know if she weren’t.”  
  


“Brian.”  
  


“Hmmm.”  
  


“Shut up.”  
  


Brian nodded. Justin pushed him backwards onto the bed and laid on top of him. Then he yawned.  
  


Brian laughed. “You certainly know how to make a man feel wanted.”  
  


“Oh, I want you… but…”  
  


Brian raised an eyebrow. Justin rolled onto his back and looked up at him. “You’re gonna have to drive. I’m tired.”  
  


Brian laughed and pounced on Justin who laughed back. “I love you.”  
  


Brian nodded. “I know.”  
  


~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**~**  
  


Justin’s POV  
  


Okay, I _was_ tired. I really was but something about the way Brian’s touching me… kind of wakes me up. He’s giving me this look; he’s challenging me to fall asleep. Yeah, like that’s gonna happen when his mouth is moving down my body. He stops at my nipples, bites hard and then moves on. He’s licking at my belly. His nose nuzzling it. He could spend all night there. I could fall asleep with him doing that, except his hands are moving lower, stroking my thighs. He’s pushing them apart and I know his mouth will follow but he’s not ready to leave my stomach yet. He’s biting softly at the skin there and it’s a damn good thing I own a couple of longer shirts because flashing bite marks every time I move my arms is bad, especially when I’m supposed to hit the big sales with my mother tomorrow.  
  


I’m hard and he’s ignoring that and I hate that. I run my hands through his hair and sort of put a little pressure on his head. He ignores it. He’s going to move at his own pace. Whatever. Tonight was probably uncomfortably comfortable for him. The domestic aspect was undeniable. Family and friends laughing and enjoying each other’s company. No drama, no tension. Yeah, that’s gonna make him itch.  
  


That’s fine. We could have gone out. I don’t think he wanted to. We still go out. And he’s been at the gym every day this week, doing a pre Thanksgiving preemptory strike on carbs. Whatever. Get laid if planning Thanksgiving makes you feel committed. Oh god. His fingers are inside me and he’s…oh god… he’s determined to make me come. He wants this to last… so he’s licking the head of my cock now. Pressing his tongue on the slit and attacking my prostate with his fingers. He knows how to make me come in seconds. I’m not some 17 year old anymore but fuck, he can still do this to me. No point in fighting it. I let go. He’s deep throating me now and I’m shooting into the back of his throat. He swallows and I sink deeper into the mattress.   
  


I’d better catch my breath, I don’t think he’s anywhere close to done.  
  


He’s not. He’s…oh fuck, he has to know I can’t do that anymore…but apparently I can… he’s draping my knees over his shoulders and sliding into me. My body is still sensitized. I’m not even into a post orgasmic haze and he’s pushing into me. Whispering into my ear. “Open up for me Justin. c’mon, let me in.”  
  


I guess I tensed up. I’m not as flexible as I used to be, and seriously, I just ate three pounds of turkey and stuffing and he’s pushing in slowly. I open for him. I feel him slide into me. I sigh. My legs will complain about this in the morning, right now, I stretch my thighs and feel my feet almost hit the headboard. He’s moving slowly though. Not ramming into me. He’s fucking me with a languid rhythm. People wonder why I beg. Because he brings me to the edge and then pulls back just to hear me do it. Because there’s no room for pride between us.   
  


I’m gripping his biceps and arching up into him, relieving the stretch on my thighs and creating more in my ass and I love that. I want it now. Really want it, hard and fast and brutal and punishing and… he knows.  
  


He fucking always knows what I want. His hands are on my torso. I swear only my shoulders are on the bed. He pulls me forward and pushes me back. I feel myself sliding across the sheets. The look on his face is almost inhuman and so fucking beautiful.   
  


I try to talk but all I can do is grunt as he drives into me and seemingly pushes all the air out of me at the same time. I want to touch him. My hands reach out for him but we’re moving to fast. I raise my arms up and grip the bottom of the headboard. He pulls and I let go of it and slide forward again. Oh Christ, I’m gonna come again and he hasn’t even come once.  
  


I can’t hold back and I call his name as I shoot. He’s coming now too. His head thrown back, his hands strong and firm on my waist. I’ll have bruises there tomorrow. No trying on sweaters in front of my mother. He moans and I’m bucking against him. He collapses on top of me and whispers my name into my hair.  
  


This man is going to kill me.  
  


I think I hear the phone ring. I glance at the clock. it’s almost one a.m. Fuck it. I ignore it and press closer to Brian. His arm tightens around me and I drift back off to sleep. Whatever they want, they can call back in the morning.  
  


 


End file.
